The Lions of Hogwarts
by Copper Vixen
Summary: With the Pride settling back in at Hogwarts, Harry is left to ponder the whereabouts of the witch he most wanted to see dead while keeping order amongst his companions and the school, sequel to Dying Flames, HPDM slash
1. Chapter 1

DISCLAIMER: Harry Potter and all other characters and locations belong to J. K. Rowling.

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Chapter One - Closing Doors**

Harry paused at the top of the main stairs, hand twisting on the warm wood of the banister. His fingers clenched on the dark wood as he glanced down the hall. The corridor was lit brightly by the windows at either end of the hall, their curtains pulled back so the fading sun could shine through the sparkling panes. He smiled as a roar of laughter reached his ears, rising up the stairs from the crowded hall below. His smile turned sad as he began to walk slowly down the corridor, halting next to a pale wooded trunk resting just outside an open door. Leaning against the doorframe, he looked over the empty room.

Two beds were made neatly, the silver and black duvets pulled tautly across the mattresses. Dust was already settling on the dresser and night table, the outlines of packed possessions the only reminder that people had recently resided there. Pulling the door closed, Harry moved onto the next room. Trunks beside the door and beds made, this room whispered the same sorry story as the others.

They were leaving. All of them. Within the hour the Lion's Pride would be on their way back to Hogwarts. Ice Manor would sit empty and silent. Unused and alone.

His boots reverberated on the floor as he passed through the hall slowly, closing doors and reminiscing. Sighing, he paced slowly toward his own chambers, weaving around packed trunks and the bags piled atop them. Extending a hand, he pressed the doors of the room open and stood there.

The room he had occupied at Ice Manor resembled the rooms of his friends. Two trunks rested at the end of the bed he had shared with Draco. His fingers slid over the wood of the door as he prowled slowly across the room. He fingered the grooves of a sleek statute perched atop the dresser, smiling slightly as a portrait hanging on the wall offered him a consoling grin.

"Why so sad?" A soft voice asked, pale hands slowly creeping around his waist and interlocking over his abdomen.

Grinning slightly, he settled his own hands upon Draco's and leaned back against the blond. "We leave in ten minutes." Harry answered quietly, interlacing their fingers. He rubbed the cool metal of the ring Draco wore, warming the silver absently.

"It's only for a couple of months, not several years." Draco murmured in amusement, pressing his nose against the nape of Harry's neck and inhaling. He chuckled as the Gryffindor shivered, fingers massaging the raven-haired wizard's abdomen.

"I know." Harry mumbled, loosening his grip on Draco's fingers and turning within the blond's arms. He settled his hands firmly on the other wizard's hips and drew him closer, rubbing their noses together before drawing back. "That still doesn't make it less sad."

Draco grinned and let go of Harry, setting himself on the edge of the night table as he watched his companion pace around the room. The raven-haired wizard stopped and ran his fingers over various things throughout the room, smiling in remembrance before moving on. He was staring at the bed with a smirk on his face when the sound of feet pounding up the stairs echoed through the empty hall.

Hermione appeared in the doorway, Hogwart's cloak settling around her body as she came to a halt. She raised an eyebrow at the expression on Harry's face and shot a look at Draco, shaking her head when she saw the smug smile the blond wore. "We're ready to go, Harry. The portkeys have been distributed and everyone is gathering on the lawn."

"Hm, thank you." Harry said, turning slowly and resting his hands on his hips. He smiled at the sight of the Gryffindor cloak hanging from Hermione's shoulders. Walking forward, he pretended to straighten the red and gold tie she wore. "Excellent, we'll be down in a second." He watched her disappear out the door before turning back to Draco and extending a hand.

"Shall we?" He asked suavely, bowing as the blond placed his hand within his own. Pulling Draco to his feet, he led the blond silently from the room. Halting in the hall outside the room, he shot one last look over his shoulder before letting Draco close to the doors.

XxXxX

The Lion's Pride stood impatiently on the green lawn of Ice Manor. For the first time in several months, they wore the colours of their Hogwart's houses. Except here, standing before a manor of white stone, they were a confusing jumble of colours. Red and gold cloaks brushed against green and silver, blue and black rubbing against brown and yellow. The prejudice of their houses was lost amongst the Pride, they were no longer four but one house.

House elves gathered to one side, their black and gold pillowcases damp with their tears as they prepared to see their masters and mistresses off. Draped around several of their thin shoulders, snakes of various colours and breeds flicked their tongues.

Harry and Draco stepped out onto the front steps, pausing as they peered out at the assembled Pride and household. "Good luck, luv." Giving his lover's hand a comforting squeeze, Draco released him and walked down to join the crowd, vanishing with startling ease among the Pride.

Sighing, Harry raised a hand and rubbed the back of his head. A choked sob had him closing his eyes as one of the small house elves burst into tears. "The first thing I would like to remind you all, is that we are not heading off in separate directions never to see each other again. We're all going to Hogwarts and will be in constant contact with each other. We will see each other in class, at breakfast, lunch and dinner, in Hogsmeade, and in the halls. I consider all of you friends and would not give any one of you the cold shoulder. Even if it is what is expected of me by my house."

"In two minutes, your portkeys will activate. You will all land in Hogsmeade together and walk to Hogwarts. I have a meeting with Professor Dumbledore and won't be able to arrive with you. I wish you the best of luck in dealing with your houses and will see all of you at breakfast tomorrow morning." He finished calmly, chewing his bottom lip as murmurs rose in the group.

Before he could move down to say a few last words to his Pride, his legs were encircled by the arms of three house elves. Patting them carefully atop their glistening skulls, he hissed soothingly to the snakes stretching their angular heads up to him. He raised his gaze in time to see the first portkey activate, one of his departments disappearing.

"It wasn't that hard, was it?" Draco asked softly, smirking as Harry was dragged slowly backward by elf clutching desperately at the cloak he wore. Grinning, he raised a hand and blew the raven-haired wizard a kiss before his portkey shimmered into life. With one last flick of his fingers, he vanished to join the rest of the Pride waiting in Hogsmeade.

With a sad expression on his face, Harry stared out at the empty lawn. Freeing himself of house elves, he turned and stared into the empty foray of Ice Manor. The grand entrance whispered invitingly, beckoning him to come back inside and settle himself before one of her many fireplaces. Grabbing the door handles, he pulled the doors closed and peered at the wood for several seconds before raising a hand and caressing the smooth surface. Reaching into his pocket, he drew forth a key and slid it into the lock, closing his eyes at the loud click.

"Be a good girl while I'm gone." He whispered, giving the door one last pat. His cloak whirled out behind him as he turned around and stalked down the steps. Halfway down the front walk, he vanished with a pop.

XxXxX

Hogwarts buzzed with whispers, soft hisses making the halls ring with the constant chatter of many voices. Students not in class lingered around the front entrance, hoping for some glimpse of the returning sixth years. Today was the day, after all. The day that the members of the Lion's Pride resumed their schooling. Debates and arguments raced through the student population.

It was assumed they'd enter with a bang. Arriving on the front lawn in their billowing black cloaks, lions parading proudly across their chests. They'd sweep up the stairs and sneer at the teachers in anger over their present situation before vanishing into the shadows of the school. Or perhaps the Pride would drop from the sky on their sleek black brooms, arrogantly stalking through the castle to their houses.

As the clock chimed the hours by and the sun slid slowly through the sky, all patience vanished. Teachers sat stiffly through dinner, speaking to each other softly and keeping a close eye on the pouting students. Neither hide nor hair was seen of the sixth years until the sun had set completely and curfew was minutes away. Gliding through the front doors wearing their schools robes, they calmly separated into four groups and drifted in the direction of their houses. No words were spoken. No flashy entrance was made. It was all together a very disappointing day for the students of Hogwarts.

XxXxX

Harry walked down the halls of Hogwarts, the simple Gryffindor cloak he had donned moments ago swaying with every step he took. His hands were shoved deeply into his pockets, his strides unhurried. He halted in front of the statute guarding the headmaster's office, staring at the Griffin thoughtfully.

"Chocolate Licorice." He whispered, glancing down the hall as the statute shuddered before beginning to move slowly aside. His eyes fell to half-mast as he considered the stairs rising from the floor and vanishing into the shadows. Placing his foot on the first step, he began the climb to Dumbledore's office.

The older wizard was sitting before his large desk, the fiery phoenix resting on its perch behind him. His twinkling blue eyes regarded the younger wizard standing in the shadows before him. "Hello Harry." He murmured, raising a trembling hand and gesturing the Gryffindor forward. The scars on his wrist were visible as his sleeve rode up, drawing the raven-haired wizard's gaze.

"Professor Dumbledore." Harry said softly, bowing his head before walking forward and claiming one of the wing-backed chairs before the headmaster's desk. He twitched his cloak out of the way as he sat down on the red fabric of one of the chairs, straightening his tie and clearing his throat. "I hope you're feeling better."

"Indeed I am, my boy." Dumbledore responded, offering the raven-haired wizard a small smile as he picked up a small dish of candies and held it out for the younger's inspection. Accepting the slight twitch of fingers dismissing the bowl, he replaced it on his desk. "I was wondering how you're feeling, Harry. I know that this is not what you wanted but you must understand the council thinks it best you all finish your educations."

Harry tipped his chin up and eyed the wizard who had once been his mentor. "We're feeling fine, considering the circumstances under which we came to be here. The decision of the council has already been discussed completely. We agreed to finish our sixth year, those who want to continue their education after that will have the support of the Pride."

"You're a fine leader, Harry. You've done well and have the respect of many people, but are you sure this is what you want from life. Do you want to be a soldier for the rest of your life?" Albus Dumbledore asked, his face serious. His eyes lost the twinkle they usually bore as he stared at Harry, seemingly searching his soul.

"I make a good soldier. It is one of the only things I've been encouraged to do with my life. If that's all you wanted to ask me about, I'd like to go now." Harry replied simply, rising to stand before the desk. He waited for the nod of dismissal before whirling around and heading toward the door. Pausing with one hand on the wood of the door, he turned slowly and looked back at Dumbledore. "You may not see it, but I'm happier now then I was three years ago. I have friends and a family I would die for if asked. Maybe I'll never know what I did to deserve them, but I'm glad I've got them."

Nodding his head in acceptance of the response, Dumbledore glanced at the phoenix sitting behind him, dark eyes blinking curiously. "Good night, Harry."

"Good night, sir." Harry said softly, already sliding down the stairs. Pausing at the bottom, he allowed his fingers to travel the length of his wand before heading in the direction of Gryffindor Tower.

XxXxX

Harry stood in the center of the sixth year Gryffindor dorm and looked around. The round room sparkled from a recent cleaning. Drapes and curtains had been freshly pressed, swinging softly as the five wizards moved around. Beds were made neatly, red and gold comforters lying wrinkle free upon the dark wooded frames. Dean and Seamus walked through the room, methodically opening every window so the night breeze could seep in. Inhaling the fresh air, they glanced about before nodding in silent agreement.

"Slightly depressing, isn't it?" Seamus said, flopping onto the edge of his bed. He ran a hand over the Gryffindor comforter and grimaced, fingers clutching at the lion lying still upon the fabric. Sliding his wand from it's sheathe, he waved it around and eyed the duvet thoughtfully.

Dean smirked and drew his own wand, sketching a quick design in the air with it before aiming the glowing tip at the bed. "A tad less colour and a little more life." He murmured, flicking the wood and whispering several words quickly. He grinned as he watched a wave of black sweep over the cloth, consuming the garish gold and red. A pale lion bloomed to life, circling once before yawning and curling into a ball. "Much better."

"It won't hold." Harry whispered, smiling as he unsheathed his own wand and whispered the incantation. In moments his own bed was draped in black, relieved only by the gold lion sprawled across the end. "Hogwarts won't let us erase our house colours. We'll wake tomorrow and be surrounded by the red and gold of Gryffindor."

"How do you think everyone else is doing?" Neville asked, smiling at the lion pacing across his bed. Running a hand over the dark fabric, he chuckled as the large feline chased his fingers and pounced in a hopeless hunt.

Curling a lip, Harry dropped onto his bed and huddled deeper into the cloak he wore. His eyes narrowed as he thought about the mob that had been awaiting their arrival in the Gryffindor Common Room. Cheers and questions had been thrown at the sixth years, dozens of voices demanding answers. "They probably received the same welcome. It's why I decided to postpone our departure from home. Could you imagine what would have happened if we arrived earlier? We'd have been swamped." He bit out, hands fisting the cloth of his blankets.

"It'll only get worse." Ron predicted, flipping his trunk open and rifling through the contents. Grinning triumphantly, he held up a bottle of aged scotch thieved from the library of Ice Manor. Pulling the cork, he took a swig and made a face before passing the bottle on. "We've gotten to use to being in the company of each other. At home, we associated with everyone without thought."

"They won't like it, that's for sure." Seamus muttered, sniffing the mouth of the bottle before grimacing. Taking a quick sip, he slid the cork into place and tossed it over to Seamus. "How will it look when we go to breakfast tomorrow? The Professor's will expect us to sit at our House tables and so will our house mates."

"The Pride struggled to become unified. We're not going to let anyone destroy that." Harry growled softly, snagging the scotch and taking a mouthful. Shaking his head and wincing at the bite of the liquor, he corked it and walked to the end of his bed. Opening his trunk, he froze for a minute before settling the bottle into the shadowed depths. His fingers brushed the fur of his cloak, making his lips curl into a smile. "They'll try and separate us. Put us at each others throats as if nothing's changed."

"What do you want us to do?" Ron murmured, raising his eyebrows as he began to get ready for bed.

Harry turned and smiled slowly, fingers rising to brush the faint bruises circling his throat. "We give them a show. They want to see the Lion's Pride in action, so that's what we'll give them." He snorted softly as he stared out the window next to his bed, watching the pale moon hover silently in the sky. "A pride of lions."

Snickering at the thought, the wizards changed for bed. Crawling beneath their black comforters, they all snuggled deeper into their beds. The curtains hung unused at the foot of the beds, dark red slowly crawling back into existence at the bottom of the black fabric. Sighs and sleepy whispers of good night filled the air before silence settled upon the dorm.

XxXxX

Terry sighed and leaned back against the closed door, his huff of relief was echoed by the other wizards in the dorm. The Ravenclaw Common Room had been packed with students, all clamoring and demanding answers. The lady Lions had hissed and spat in distaste, pushing through the crowd brandishing their wands. Terry and the rest of the Lions had followed the lionesses example, forcing their way past house mates and seeking refuge within their dorm. Or lair, he thought with a shake of his head. Raising his hands, he rubbed his temples while looking around the shadowed room.

The Ravens of the Pride seemed to be in a state, all sitting silently on their beds. One of them was running a hand over a black cloak, fingers combing through the thick fur around the hood. Another was mournfully caressing the keys of his laptop, staring at the blank screen sadly.

"That was nasty." He commented, his voice breaking the quiet and drawing the gazes of his dorm mates.

"Understatement of the year." Muttered one of the wizards, flopping back onto his bed and placing his hands over his face. Groaning dramatically, he toed his shoes off and rolled over, burying his face in his pillow.

"It'll get better once we're back out in the school, circulating with the rest of the Pride." Terry said softly, frowning as he stared down at his bed. He glanced down at the uniform he wore and shook his head, plucking at the blue and fabric. "Everything seems . . . bluer then I remember."

Glancing up at the pounding on the door, he smirked and ran a hand lovingly over his wand. The silencing and locking charm was strong enough to keep the rest of the house out until it was taken down, which most likely wouldn't be for several months. Sighing at the thought, he flopped down onto his bed and glared up at the canopy.

XxXxX

Justin Finch-Fletchley smiled as a fifth year witch cooed at him, one of her hands combing through his hair. Sighing in pleasure, he slouched deeper into the chair before the fire and raised a hand to gain the attention of his chattering House. "So there I was, in the middle of nowhere protecting three witches while trying to sneak into Death Eater headquarters. I, of course, came up with the clever plan of sending them all into hiding while I went up and knocked on the door."

"You're so brave." The fifth year cooed, clutching tightly at his hair.

Ignoring the rolling eyes of the sixth year witches, he grit his teeth and freed his hair while winking charmingly at a blonde seventh year. Smiling at the attention he was being smothered with, the epic tale of Justin Finch-Fletchley was spun into the night.

XxXxX

Draco pushed his bangs out of his eyes and pressed calmly into the Slytherin Common Room. The murmurs of the Slytherin Pride quieted as they carefully gathered in the center of the room. Wands were held lightly in their fingers, the tips peeping out beneath their trailing sleeves. The students seated around the room took them in silently, eyeing the cloaks they wore and the defensive stance they had taken.

Fingering his wand, Draco ran his cool eyes over the group before nodding in greeting and gliding in the direction of the sixth year dorms. The presence of Blaise and Theodore at his heels was comforting, as was the knowledge he had the protection of the entire Lion's Pride.

The sixth year boy's dorm was eerily quiet. Green and silver hangings swaying with the suction created by opening the door. A flick of his wand had candles around the room springing to life, flames dancing as they inspected the room cautiously.

"It's clear." Blaise said, sheathing his wand and running a finger over his desk. He raised an eyebrow and nodded in approval upon finding no dust clinging to the surface. Rubbing the digits together, he flipped back the sheets of his bed and fluffed his pillow.

"There are so few." Draco mumbled, dropping onto his bed. He ran a hand over the green silk, wishing for the thick blankets that had occupied the bed he had shared with Harry at Ice Manor.

"They made their choice." Theodore mumbled, digging through the trunk at the end of his bed. He frowned as he pulled out several empty chocolate frog wrappers. Narrowing his eyes, he shot Blaise a murderous lock and slammed the lid of his trunk down. Pointing his wand at the chest, he whispered a spell and watched as a glow consumed the wood before fading.

"I know they did. I just never realized how many Slytherins were actually on Voldemort's side. To walk into the Common Room and find only a handful of students gathered there. . .strangely saddening." Draco said softly, rising and heading to the trunk that rested at the bottom of his bed. Flipping the lid open, he eyed its contents before withdrawing a pair of warm cotton pajamas and a long piece of black fabric.

"Tell me you're not going to wear those." Blaise hissed in aghast, gesturing at the golden lions prancing proudly across the red cotton. He closed his eyes and shook his head when Draco merely nodded. "You've been with Potter for what? Three days? How the hell did his bad taste in clothing manage to rub off on you in that short period of time?"

"Feel free to freeze your balls off, Blaise." Draco replied cheerfully, already pulling the top on and doing the buttons up. Theodore's snort of amusement had him grinning and winking at the other wizard. "Besides these are Harry's, and they're warm. Very warm."

"He's right, you know." Theodore said, dragging on his own pajamas. He smiled when the dark-haired wizard shot him a disgruntled glare and waved a pair of green silk pajamas in the air. "Though I suppose he has gotten used to having Harry keep him warm at night."

"Don't be crude, Theo." Draco said in amusement, crawling into bed and pulling his blankets up. The black Pride cloak Harry had presented to him was tucked under the blankets with him, the cloth warming quickly under his hands.

"If we don't make it through the night, I just want you all to know . . . I love you." Blaise said dramatically, flinging his arms wide open before dropping backwards onto his bed. He held the position before wiggling around and settling himself properly under his blankets, chuckling softly at the unamused snorts his friends made.

"I highly doubt anyone out there would even think about attacking one of us. With the whole Pride minutes away they'd have to be stupid to try it." Theodore muttered, his voice muffled by the blankets he had drawn over his head.

"I think we can safely assume anyone supporting Voldemort has fled the country." Draco mumbled, burying his face in the soft fabric of the black cloak and closing his eyes.

Candles were doused around the room, their flames flicking slowly out of existence. The creaking of wood and shifting of mattresses filled the air as everyone settled down. Hogwarts dorms were very different from the semi-private rooms they had had at Ice and it took them all longer then usual to fall asleep.

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A/N: Well, here it is, the first chapter of the Dying Flames sequel. I know it's long but the reason for that is the irregular updates. This story will not be updated weekly. I'm assuming right now that it will be ten chapters in length, focusing mainly on the return of the Pride to Hogwarts. Hope you enjoyed it. 


	2. Breakfast

DISCLAIMER: Harry Potter and all other characters and locations belong to J. K. Rowling.

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Chapter Two - Breakfast

Harry opened his eyes and drew a slow breath, focusing on the dark canopy floating above him. His ears picked up the slow and easy breathing of the wizards sleeping in the beds around him; each cocooned in their own safe little world. Lifting a hand, he rubbed his fingers over the scars encircling his throat, the raised flesh-feeling warm beneath the seeking digits. If the scar marring his forehead didn't draw everyone's eyes, the series of new ones adorning his throat would.

Sighing, he rolled over and pushed aside one of the long curtains, glowering at the bright red cloth that blurred before his eyes. A small gold clock perched upon the night table ticked time away, its crescent hands resting firmly atop the six. Rubbing a hand over his face, he retrieved his glasses from among the night table clutter and sat up. Slipping them on, he pulled his wand from under his pillow and gave it a gentle flick. In a clatter, the curtains hanging around his bed pulled themselves back, swinging wildly as they halted at the corner posts.

The slight noise brought the four other wizards awake, all of them grabbing for their wands and leveling them in the direction of the rattle before their eyes had even opened. Pushing aside their bed curtains, they searched for any sign of danger while shaking off the stupor that deep sleep had left with them. Through half open eyes they observed the fluttering cloth, wands dropping away at the sound of Harry's laughter. Flopping back onto their beds, they used their wands to draw back the curtains of their own four posters.

"Good morning," he murmured, propping himself atop his pillows. His mumbled greeting was met with tired grunts as his dorm mates stirred and slipped their wands away. Shaking his head over the groups' laziness, Harry slid out of bed and stretched. "Get up."

Rolling onto his stomach, Ron peered at the clock on his night table through bleary eyes. "Harry, mate, it's a quarter after six." Burying his face into his pillow, the redhead listened to the immediate outcry that his announcement caused.

"I know, that's why I want all of you up." Flipping the lid of his trunk open, the raven-haired wizard pursed his lips and glared at its contents. Among the neatly stacked books and Pride paraphernalia rested a pile of new clothes. Curling a lip, he rifled through the garments before stepping back with a snarl and slamming the lid of the trunk closed. "Bastard." He hissed, planting his hands on his hips. Snorts greeted his maddened mutter as the other wizards clambered out of their beds.

"Out of morbid curiousity, what did Malfoy do?" Ron asked, patting his rumpled blankets flat in a half-hearted effort to make his bed look neat.

"How did you know I was talking about Draco?" Harry queried, huffing softly as he opened the trunk again and grabbed a shirt and some slacks. Tossing the clothes on his bed, he unburied a Gryffindor tie and robe and jettisoned them in the direction of his pillows.

"Mate," Seamus called from across the room, "there's only one person who can make you that mad and get away with it."

"Yes, well, he took all my clothes." Harry responded as he digested the other wizard's words. Shaking his head, he gathered a towel and his bathroom bag from the trunk before letting the lid fall closed. Claiming the new slacks and shirt from among the moguls of his bedcovers, he stalked into the bathroom to prepare for the day.

"So, he took it upon himself to buy you an entire wardrobe?" Dean asked as he chased the raven-haired wizard into the bathroom. Ducking the bar of soap slung at him, he dropped his stuff and shot into the shower stall at the end of the row. "No offense meant, but you needed the help."

"It's not funny." Harry snapped, placing his clothes carefully down on a shelf. Making sure they wouldn't get wet, he walked to the nearest shower stall and reached in to turn the water on. He adjusted the taps slowly, watching as a heavy mist began to the fill the room.

"It must be love!" Dean yelled over the echoing splatter of water. Further conversation was cut off as the water he was standing under turned cold abruptly, giving him no chance to avoid a full soaking. Yelping, he erupted through the curtain just in time to see Harry vanish into his own cubicle, wand in hand. "Sorry?" He offered to the steam filled room.

Thirty minutes later Harry descended the stairs into the Common Room with the other sixth year boys at his heels. All of them were neatly dressed in their house colours, fingers tugging on the red and gold ties in a last minute attempt to adjust the cloth. Lengthening their strides, Seamus and Dean swept by him so they emerged into the large empty room first. Pausing on the bottom step, they prevented the raven-haired wizard from going further until they knew the room was safe.

"It's clear." Dean announced, pushing his wand back into its sheath and stepping aside so Harry could walk into the room.

Frowning, Harry rolled his eyes and glided into the Common Room. "Thank you," he murmured dryly. Turning on his heels, he began to pace while the others spread out and dropped onto chairs and couches. Ignoring their raised eyebrows, he glanced at the clock and nodded in silent approval. It was just a little after six forty-five, which meant they were right on time. At this rate they would make it down to breakfast before the rest of the school. The pounding of boots on the stairs turned the males' heads and brought the four sitting wizards to their feet.

"You're late." Harry stated, arching an eyebrow as Hermione snorted and shot a peek at the clock. Folding his hands before him, he let his gaze sweep over the nine people assembled in front of him. Each of them was perfectly dressed, the gold and red ties appearing ironed and fresh as their cloaks swung around their legs.

"That clock is fast." Hermione muttered starchily, tipping her chin up and regarding him with narrowed eyes.

Harry threw his head back and laughed, breaking the tense atmosphere that had settled upon the Common Room. "I know," he said with chuckle, reaching out and giving one of her curls a playful tug. Letting the smile slip from his lips, he sighed and ran his fingers through his messy hair. "We're going to be under a lot of pressure today. The rest of Gryffindor is going to expect us to fall back into our old routine, which is something that's not going to happen. The professors are going to be testing us, constantly. Everyone is going to want a glimpse of the Lion's Pride. I want everyone to be on his or her best behaviour."

"Harry? We're sixteen, not eleven." Hermione interrupted, lifting a hand to halt his protests. Stepping forward, she rested a hand on his shoulder and peered into his eyes. "We know what's expected of us and what you'd want us to do in any given situation. Besides, this is Hogwarts-"

"And not a battlefield or war zone." Ron added, shrugging his shoulders when Hermione glared at him.

"Isn't it, Ron?" Harry questioned with a small smile. Shaking his head, he whirled around and strode toward the portrait hole. Casting a quick look upwards as he pushed the Fat Lady open, he climbed out the entrance and crossed his fingers. Hopefully everything would go as smoothly as he'd planned.

XxXxX

Draco preened in front of the mirror, whirling around and glancing over his shoulder to make sure the cloak fell to the floor in an uninterrupted line. Bobbing his head in approval, he swept out of the bathroom and met the raised eyebrows of his dorm mates with a shrug. Fidgeting with the green and silver tie he wore, he paused in front of his massive wardrobe and ran his eyes over the neat line of shoes resting upon the dark wood. Chewing his bottom lip, he ignored the grumbles from Vincent and Gregory and selected a new pair of boots.

"Are you done?" Gregory whined plaintively, bouncing up and down on the edge of his bed as he observed Draco. The wood of the bed frame gave a threatening creak as it splintered slowly, stretching long fingers down the legs. With a groan, the entire bed collapsed, sending the large Slytherin rolling across the stone in a tangle of bed curtains and chunks of wood.

Smiling, Draco rose and wiggled his toes within his boots. "I am," he announced, raising a hand and waving away the plume of dust that hovered in the air. Frowning, he stepped over the struggling wizard and prowled leisurely toward the door of the room, halting only to withdraw his wand and whisper a charm in the direction of the wiggling bundle.

Tugging on the cuffs of his white shirt, he arrived in the Common Room and glanced at the clock. They had exactly ten minutes to arrive in the Great Hall as per Harry's last minute wishes. Rolling his shoulders, he turned his gaze to Theo and Blaise and looked them carefully over. Both wizards exuded calmness and grace, reclining elegantly in the chairs sitting beside the crackling fire.

"Ready?" Blaise asked, rising and shaking his cloak out with a quick flick of his wrists. He arched an eyebrow as Gregory blundered through the door behind the blond, his clothes torn and covered with grime. Grimacing, he slid his wand into his hand and rolled it between his fingers while trying to figure out where to start.

Giving a sharp nod of his head, Draco turned and eyed his fellow Slytherin with a look of disgust. Sighing, he pulled his wand free of his sleeve and waved it in the general direction of Gregory. "Yes, now where's Pansy and the rest?" He asked, observing the other wizard as a magical glow swallowed him. When the shimmer of magic dissipated, the bulky Slytherin stood there with wide eyes, his clothes neat and his hair lying smooth.

"Pansy was here a moment ago," Theo informed him, eyeing the scuffed toe of his left shoe with a frown. Gritting his teeth, the wizard leaned over and rubbed at the mark with the tip of his finger. "She said she'd forgotten something." Under the pressure of his finger, the mark faded. Quickly checking for any other marks that he'd missed in his earlier inspection, Theodore rose to his feet and stretched.

"We're going to be late." Draco mumbled, giving the clock an anxious look as he swung around to face the hall that the girls' dorm was located down. He gave a relieved sigh when the small group of witches appeared, bringing with them a cloud of perfume and hair spray. Chattering happily, they halted in front of him and arched their eyebrows.

"I almost wore the wrong cloak." Pansy explained, twitching the length of Slytherin cloak into place. Shaking her head over the stupid mistake she'd made, she lid her arm through Blaise's and peered at the clock. "If we leave now, we can still make Harry's deadline." The blonde witch said hurriedly, dragging the dark-haired wizard in the direction of the entrance.

"I haven't even unpacked." Millicent announced as she passed by the section of wall that had swung open under Pansy's hands. Placing a delicate hand on Vincent's arm, she allowed him to escort her down the dark dungeon hall. "My clothes are going to be terribly wrinkled and I'm pretty sure a bottle of nail polish broke during transit."

"We'll have plenty of time to get unpacked later." Draco said, leading the way up the stairs into the main corridor. Holding his shoulders regally, he swept down the long hall with the rest of the Slytherins following, his chin tipped up and his pale eyes screaming arrogantly.

The rumble of footsteps further down the corridor had the group slowing, hands falling smoothly to the wands hidden within their robes. A group of students spilled from the mouth of one of the many staircases, their heads slowly turning as they searched for danger. A flash of gold and the lifting of hands had the Slytherins hurrying toward the Gryffindors, greetings booming through the air as the two groups inspected each other for fresh injuries or signs of foul play. Mingling eagerly, the two houses exchanged stories of last night's events and any rumours or gossip they'd picked up along the way.

A warm hand closed around Draco's, tugging him back against an equally as warm body. Chuckling softly, he snuggled back against Harry and smiled. His laughter was cut off as the hands settled upon his hips before sliding slowly across his stomach. Attempting to ignore the gentle massage, he flicked his eyes to Blaise and arched an eyebrow. The dark-haired wizard nodded in understanding and led the group off without further orders, vanishing through the open doors of the Great Hall.

"How was your night?" Harry rumbled, nuzzling the back of the blond's neck as he watched the group of Pride members disappear.

Wiggling in the raven-haired wizard's arms, Draco turned himself around and slipped his arms around the other's neck. "I'd forgotten how cold the dungeons were." He murmured, tightening his grip and dragging Harry closer. Allowing his eyes to drift closed, he leaned into the other wizard and inhaled deeply.

Harry laughed softly, his hands slipping under the Slytherin's cloak to play with the shirt tucked neatly into the black slacks. Enjoying the hiss that slid from the blond's mouth, he dipped his head and caught Draco's mouth. Running his tongue lightly across the other wizard's lower lip, he smiled and allowed himself to slip deeper into the blond's mouth.

The clearing of a throat separated the pair slightly, leaving them leaning into each other and breathing heavily. Shifting his gaze from Harry's lips, Draco arched an eyebrow and peered at the sixth year Ravenclaws watching the wizards in silent amusement. "Can we help you?" He asked innocently, untangling himself from the raven-haired wizard's arms.

"You wanted us in the Great Hall by seven." Terry stated, twisting his arm and giving a sarcastic look at the watch wrapped around his wrist. Arching an eyebrow, he exchanged a look with Mandy Brocklehurst and smiled. "It's now one minute after seven, which means both of you are late."

Green eyes met blue and the pair exchanged a small private smile. "You had best be glad I got distracted," Harry said, straightening his shirt with quick movements of his hands. Reaching up, he pulled on his tie and rolled his neck, frowning as the cloth rubbed against the ring of scars decorating the tanned skin of his throat. "Or else the entire lot of you would be very late." Holding his hand out, he tightened his fingers around Draco's and gestured the Ravenclaws ahead of them.

"What happens now?" Draco asked as they prowled toward the Great Hall. As they entered the doorway, Harry's hand slipped free of his, leaving him grasping air. Shaking his head, he joined the raven-haired wizard between the Slytherin and Gryffindor tables just as a pack of harried Hufflepuffs came racing around the corner.

"Alright," Harry said loudly, brow drawing down as he frowned at the puffing students grouped together at the end of the hall. Flicking his fingers, he waited for the Hufflepuffs to join the rest of the Pride before scanning the empty hall. "We're not going to be allowed to sit together, that's a given."

"I think sitting back to back at the tables would be good enough." Blaise suggested, crossing his arms as he looked around the room. "We can watch each others backs without stepping on anyone elses toes."

Chewing on his bottom lip, Harry looked at the four tables running the length of the room before nodding slowly to himself. "Yes, that should do it. Sitting that way we'll show a united front and discourage anyone from bothering us."

Arranging themselves carefully, the Lion's Pride claimed spots along the benches. Without being told, they all made a mental note of the place they sat, knowing they'd be expected to sit in that exact spot for the rest of the school year. It was going to become exhausting; the lengths they would have to go to in order to assure that they weren't bombarded with questions or separated by old school rivalries.

"You wanted us down here this early to work out a seating arrangement?" Ron asked in bemusement. Groaning, he folded his arms atop the table and dropped his head onto them. "I thought this was going to be like a vacation. You know? No worries and all that other stuff."

Harry sat with his back to Terry and beside Ron with Draco sitting directly across from him at the Slytherin table. Raising an eyebrow, he slid his wand free of its sheath and placed it on the table before him. "It depends on how you look at it, I suppose." He muttered, checking over his shoulder to make sure that the Hufflepuffs had gotten settled. Smiling as Justin Finch-Fletchley let out a soft snore, he tangled his fingers in the black ribbon hanging from his wand. "You will get to sleep in and play games. You just won't have to get up at three in the morning to plot a strike against the Death Eaters or sit outside in the pouring rain gathering information."

"I think I'm going to miss that though," Ron mumbled sleepily. Rubbing his nose on his sleeve, he straightened slowly and peered around him at the students who he'd fought beside and planned with. "I mean, when was the last time the teachers let us have a mock war in the attic? Or allowed us to stay up all night and debate battle strategy?"

"Or work at creating new spells and charms?" Hermione added with a wistful smile and sigh that was shared with most of the Ravenclaws.

"Remember that time Seamus fell off his broom and landed in the middle of the Jones' swimming pool? That poor woman had no idea what was going on." Millicent said, chuckling at the memory.

"Hey! I ruined a perfectly good pair of boots that day." Seamus said, his face glowing in embarrassment. Waving one of his hands to ward off any further comments, he pointed his finger at Dean in an attempt to turn them away from playfully harassing him. "That's not worse than ending up in Diagon Alley with no pants and almost getting arrested for indecent exposure by a group of aurors!"

Before any other incidents could be brought up, the staff door opened and several of the teachers entered the Great Hall. They paused as they reached the dais, surprise colouring their features as they stared at the large group of students laughing and joking from their spots at the long tables. Glancing nervously at each other, they took their seats. Seconds later, house elves began to pop into the room carrying trays and platters laden with food.

Hermione glanced at her watch and nodded at Harry. "Show time." She whispered, turning her head in time to watch a group of Ravenclaws wander into the hall. The soft chuckling and arguing stopped abruptly as the Pride eyed the group suspiciously. One of the witches who was with the group let out a shrill shriek that could have been interpreted as 'Terry' before skipping quickly toward the table.

In reaction to the excited squeal, the Ravenclaw part of the Pride tightened ranks. They slid closer together on the benches, bumping elbows and accidently kicking shins or stepping on toes. Silently, they watched the group rush toward them, hands drifting down to brush or caress concealed wands. It was a movement that had saved many a Pride member, but here it would be seen as a threat. Though the urge to draw their wands was strong, the rules and teachings that had been drilled into their heads were stronger.

The questions flew as the Ravenclaw fifth years crowded around the sixth years, reaching out to touch them as if not really believing they were really there. A fight almost broke out over who would sit right next to the Pride members on the end of each row. Gritting their teeth and grabbing at the wandering hands, the Ravenclaws endured. The knowledge that the other houses would soon be joining them was an almost satisfying thought.

As the hall began to fill, the volume rose. Students were yelling and waving, all of them vying for the attention of various Pride members. Hands tugged on sleeves only to be shoved away, the tables shook as people crowded to close together and knocked into each other. And over and over the same questions were asked. The questions every Pride member answered internally but would never respond to out loud.

"Why did you do it?" _Because it needed doing._

"Were you there?" _Yes._

"Was it scary?" _Of course._

"Are your parents mad?" _No, my disappearance and bad grades made them happy._

"Can I join?" _You're joking, right?_

"Silence!" The roar brought quiet to the room, all students turning to peer at Professor Snape as he took his seat at the table. Cowering under the Potion Masters dark stare, everyone sat down and bowed their heads.

Dumbledore rose from his place on the dais, standing in front of his chair as he peered out over the mass of students whispering and pointing at the Lion's Pride. "I would like to be one of the first to welcome the sixth years back to Hogwarts. They have performed a great service for the wizarding world and deserve our respect and admiration." He paused and bowed his head as the students began cheering and clapping. After allowing this to continue for several seconds, he lifted his hands in a silent demand for quiet. "They may deserve it, however, I ask you not to confuse admiration with envy. Don't hound them and demand answers, for the answers to some questions might change the way you look at yourself and the wizarding world. Perhaps, in time, they will be ready to share their stories with you. Until then, I ask that you allow them to get settled back in and catch up on missed work. Thank you everyone and please have a good day."

Unhappy mutters followed the Headmaster's announcement, eyes darting back and forth between the Pride and the head table. As the teachers rose to leave, the students began to pick up where they had begun, ignoring the snarls and warnings of the sixth years.

A brilliant shower of sparks bloomed suddenly above the Gryffindor table. Red, green, blue, and yellow balls of light hovering in the air before beginning to fade slowly. Saying nothing, the sixth years rose and walked from the hall in eight neat lines, ignoring the shouted questions that followed them from the hall.

"That wasn't that bad." Ron exclaimed, shrugging his shoulders as several pairs of eyes turned in his direction and numerous eyebrows rose in disbelief. "Well, it could have been worse." Snorts of disagreement were the only answer as shoulders slumped and hands were raised to rub aching temples.

Hermione flicked her gaze to Harry, cringing at the slight tick of his eye and the way he was gnawing on his bottom lip. "We should all get to class. Perhaps a meeting later . . ."

"Room of Requirement. Tonight at eight o'clock sharp." Harry ordered, crossing his arms as one of the school bells rang loudly. "Don't use hexes that will seriously injure anyone, travel in groups, and keep your eyes open. Enjoy your first day back at Hogwarts everyone."

* * *

A/N: Thanks to everyone who took the time to read and review! I know, it took me forever to get this chapter together. Apparently I'm not capable of working on three stories at once, another valuable lesson learned.

Captain Nire - I'm two chapters away from completing one of the other stories I am currently working on, when I'm done with that fic I'll be turning my attention to this one. This chapter will have to keep you until then.  
Sivy - I'm glad you enjoyed Dying Flames and can only hope this story rivals that one. I believe Potions will be the first class for the sixth year Gryffindor and Ravenclaws.  
GryffieGurl - lol, what can I say? I tried to portray him as a typical guy (and I think I'm doing a good job so far!)  
sbkar - Kind of a bad mistake to make in a first chapter, eh? However, I was quite correct in my use of foyar. Foyar/foyer are both right, the only difference being that one is Canadian and the other is American.


	3. Proudly Pride

DISCLAIMER: Harry Potter and all other characters and locations belong to J. K. Rowling.

**Chapter Three - Proudly Pride**

* * *

Harry glanced over his shoulder at the solemn parade of Pride members following silently behind him. His hands fisted at the wary looks on their faces, emerald eyes narrowing angrily. The incident at breakfast never should have happened. Dumbledore should have seen to it. He should have seen to it. He was their leader; their lion.

As if sensing the direction of his thoughts, Hermione jogged forward and grabbed him by the arm, drawing him to an abrupt halt. "Harry, it's not your fault." She said, offering him a small smile and releasing his arm. The small step she took backwards brought her even with the line of Pride Members forming a half-circle around him. "We all made our choice. That choice was to follow you, no matter where you led."

"I know-"

Terry Boot waved his protests away with a flip of his hand. "I don't think you do, mate. It may seem like we never had a real choice . . . but we did. Perhaps it took us a while - six years actually - to realize what that choice was, but in the end it was the right one." The Ravenclaw wizard glanced at the witches and wizard standing quietly in the shadowed hall, his eyes taking in the nods of agreement and small smiles they wore. "And I stand firm by the choice I made."

"But it was my fight!" Harry snapped angrily, his face flushing. In a fit of anger, he slammed a balled fist into the damp stone wall beside him, barely wincing as the skin on his knuckles cracked.

"But it wasn't your war," Mandy Brocklhurst said softly. "It was our war: the Wizarding World's War. How remiss of us would it have been to stand by while you were murdered? What type of friends would we have been then?"

"We weren't friends!" Lifting a hand dripping with blood, Harry leveled it at the serene looking Ravenclaw witch. "I never spoke to you. I never asked how your family was. I never wished you a Happy Birthday or a Merry Christmas. None of you owed me anything, much less loyalty."

"Ah, and therein lay the problem," Hermione sagely said. With a small shake of her head, she pulled a black handkerchief from the pocket of her robe and caught his waving hand. "The Wizarding World owed you its allegiance, for everything you had done, and everything they expected you to do." She wrapped the handkerchief tightly around Harry's bleeding knuckles and gently knotted the ends, giving the injury a final light pat before releasing him.

"It's ironic, isn't it?" Neville mused, changing the subject abruptly. "That the war that threatened to tear our world apart drew us all together. Hell, half of us would never have been friends if it weren't for Voldemort."

"We'd still be fighting pointlessly among ourselves," Dean agreed. He smiled fondly and threw an arm around Terry's neck, hauling him closer and pressing a playful kiss to his cheek. Giving the Ravenclaw an offended look as he was shoved roughly away, the wizard chuckled and said, "I guess that means we owe Voldemort a thank-you."

Fuming, Harry gave a shake of his head and held his hands up. "Are any of you listening to me?" He demanded, eyes searching the laughing group. His brow furrowed as his question went unanswered, the Pride more interested in recalling past fights and arguments that seemed superfluous in the face of everything they'd been through. With a disgruntled sigh, he lowered his arms and glared at the chattering gang. No longer did they wear the wary and harried expressions they'd borne in the Great Hall. Here, alone but for their fellow Pride members, they were happy. Truly happy.

"Give up, Harry," Ron said with a laugh. Giving a shake of his head, he reached out and grabbed his friend's shoulder, squeezing tightly. "I'm afraid you've lost this battle."

Smiling, the raven-haired wizard bowed his head in acknowledgment. The sudden clanging of the warning bell brought silence to the group, all of them wincing and peering in the direction of the Potions classroom. With a tilt of his head, Harry had the group moving quickly toward the open portal. He halted just inside the doorway, eyes cautiously sweeping the dingy chamber in search of his nemesis, and finding the greasy-haired professor missing. Brow furrowing, he turned to glance at Hermione and found himself standing face to throat with the older wizard.

"Detention!" Snape snarled in triumph, a single finger shakily leveled at Harry's chest. His dark eyes glowed with excitement and a look of extreme glee crossed his face as the students gaped at him in surprise. Ignoring a soft whisper from somewhere behind him, he slowly lowered his hand and smoothed down his robes. "Eight o'clock tonight, Potter." With that said, he swept past the milling students and took his place at the front of the classroom.

Harry arched a dark eyebrow and pursed his lips before nodding his head slightly. "As you wish, Professor," he replied calmly. He drew back his chair and slid into it silently, placing his book bag on the floor next to his feet. Folding his hands politely on the desk before him, he glanced over his shoulder and widened expectant emeralds. This had been expected, perhaps even anticipated. Of course, after the dungeon incident, who could blame the Potions Master? Harry knew what it felt like to be unwillingly imprisoned, though the circumstances had been extremely different. An arched eyebrow had the Pride shuffling to their seats, their features twisted in a myriad of angered and outraged expressions.

The group arranged themselves carelessly at the long wooden tables. They merely dropped their bags and yanked out their chairs, exchanging glances and subtle hand signals as they moved. To anyone else, the tipping of heads and scratching of chins would be meaningless, but to the Pride, it meant war. One to which they were all easily agreed upon.

Under the Potions Master's stern gaze, Terry Boot carefully crafted a paper dragon from a piece of parchment. Lifting his eyes as he finished the last fold, he smiled sweetly, and launched the dragon into the air. Before his paper creation could make it to a rack of potion vials on the far wall, it was blasted out of space, ending its short life as small pieces of blue confetti that drifted sedately to the stone floor.

"Detention, Mister Boot." Snape drawled, lowering his wand slowly. His dark eyes glittered happily, his lips almost drawn into a small smile.

Smirking in satisfaction, Terry leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. "Thank you, Professor." He purred, ignoring the sudden narrowing of the older wizard's eyes. His actions set the tone for the rest of the class.

Cauldrons exploded and notes were passed carelessly back and forth. Snape's lecture was continuously interrupted by any number of students, all of them watching him with calculating expressions upon their faces. It was an obvious rebellion; one which Severus took full granted of. He dealt out detentions left and right, the look upon his face growing more gleeful with every loud bang and crackle of parchment. Twenty minutes into the class he admitted defeat.

Frustrated beyond belief, Severus dropped into the chair behind his desk and scowled at the mutinous group. "Detention! All of you!" He screamed. His chest rose as he drew a deep breath, nostrils flaring as he exhaled sharply. Complete and utter silence followed his shouted announcement. Contentment welled inside him, the feeling edged with triumph as he glared at Ronald Weasley's bright red face.

"What time would you like us here, professor?" Hermione asked, her quill poised over a thin leather agenda She arched an eyebrow when he stared at her blankly, frowning as his brow crinkled in thought. Straightening, she set her black feather quill down and sighed, waiting for the pending explosion to occur.

Realization dawned suddenly and Severus grit his teeth and growled. "You planned this," he barked. In a whisper of cloth, he rose, prowling around his heavy desk angrily. His fiery eyes scanned the room, narrowing at the smug smirks that appeared on the faces of the Gryffindors and Ravenclaws. Hands fisting, he turned accusing orbs upon Potter and glared.

Arching an eyebrow, Harry folded his arms and lounged back in his chair. "Actually I didn't." He glanced at his fellow students and smiled before returning his glowing eyes to the fuming Professor. "You, however, probably did. I imagine you've spent the last few days dreaming of all the ways you're going to punish me. Unfortunately, for you, my Pride won't let that happen."

"Potter, you stupid boy," Snape mused out loud, the look upon his face growing slightly malicious. "I have no problem giving each and every one of you detention for the rest of the year. In fact, the very thought fills me with happiness."

Harry bowed his head in acknowledgment, his lips curving wryly. "You seem to be operating under the belief that we want to be here, Professor." Disdain laced his voice. Emerald orbs flashing, he lifted his chin and glared at the Potions Professor. "I hate to disillusion you, sir, but there are at least a dozen other things I'd rather be doing right now. We're here only because of the Ministry's decree. We're merely serving time, fulfilling our half of the bargain. We don't have to enjoy it. And I don't personally plan too."

"Time always goes faster when one is busy, Potter," Snape purred, waving his wand in the direction of the black board, " and I'll make sure you're kept busy. Very busy. Copy the notes on the board and then brew the potion. You may leave when you're done." Circling his desk, he lowered himself smoothly into his chair and settled his wand atop a stack of wrinkled parchment. His eyes swept over the room, the dark orbs calculating.

Inhaling deeply, Harry reached for his quill, his calm movements allowing the Pride to relax their guard. They followed his lead easily, assured by his demeanor that all would be well. He dipped his quill and set it to the parchment before him, copying the first few words from the board. The scratch of multiple quills broke the silence of the room, allowing him to breathe easier. Raising his eyes, he met Severus Snape's icy orbs and smiled slowly. It seemed the game was on.

XxXxX

Draco set his quill down and pursed his lips. His eyes flicked over the parchment resting before him, silently reviewing each question and the answer he'd supplied. It had really been too easy. Lifting his eyes, he stared at Professor McGonagall and wondered if she thought they'd been sitting around doing nothing for the past few months. He dropped his gaze as the Professor's eyes swept over him, closing his fingers around his red feathered quill. With a shake of his head, he signed his name in emerald ink.

Biting his bottom lip, he rose and picked up the test, carrying it to the waiting Professor with a worried expression plastered across his face. As he halted before her desk, he tightened his grip on the parchment and looked down at the floor. "I don't think I did very well," he muttered finally, shoving the paper into her reaching hand and fleeing back to his seat.

From the chair next to him, Blaise gave a soft scoffing snort, his quill scratching across his copy of the test. The dark-haired wizard straightened and rolled his shoulders, carelessly dropping his quill. "The only way you could fail this test was if Harry screwed you stupid overnight. We learned everything on it in First Year." Smirking as the blond flushed, he stood and carried his test to the front of the room. "Unless, of course, Harry's better then you've been leading us to believe?"

"No talking please," Professor McGonagall called, shooting the wizard a disapproving glare as he dropped back into his chair.

"Sorry, Professor," Blaise replied easily. He shot the Transfigurations Professor a sweet smile and folded his hands atop the desk, his face reddening with his barely contained laughter. When the witch returned her gaze to the stack of tests sitting in front of her, he rolled his eyes and slid deeper into his seat. "Well?"

"I'm not telling you anything about my sex life," Draco burst out. He winced as someone tittered behind him, his hands clenching on the desk as he turned narrowed eyes upon the other wizard. "Or Harry's for that matter," he hissed.. His wand appeared in his hand and was laid upon the desk between them, a clear warning of what would happen should Blaise seek to continue the conversation.

"Fine," mumbled Blaise as he crossed his arms. Shooting the blond a look out of the corner of his eye, he smiled smugly. "I'll just ask Harry. He seems like the type to shag and tell."

"Time's up." McGonagall announced. The few students who were still working on the test heaved the expected groans and shuffled their papers into order. Grumbling and whispering questions and their corresponding answers, the group trudged to the front of the room and deposited their test upon the pile. "I'll make sure to have them marked for you by Thursday's class," she promised. With a tap of her wand, the stack of completed tests vanished.

Exchanging a bored look with Blaise, Draco crossed his arms. There wasn't a doubt in his mind that he and every student in the room would pass. Hell, he'd hula naked on the Head Table if anyone got anything below an E.

"Please take out your books and open them to page one-hundred-fifty." The Professor stated. She clasped her hands before her and leaned against her desk, watching as the students dragged the assigned text from their satchels. Her eyes widened slowly as the books began to appear in front of the Slytherins and Hufflepuffs. The covers were stained, in some cases even missing. Pages were discoloured and torn, many baring small splotches of ink or careless scribbles.

"Liquid to solid?" Millicent questioned, biting her lip as she glanced at Hannah Abbot.

The Hufflepuff witch nodded in agreement. "I imagine she'll expect us to start with water."

Rolling her eyes, Millicent pulled her book closer and gingerly opened it. "First year stuff," she mumbled, taking the corner of one page and delicately turning it. A frown creased her face as she read several small scribbles next to a highlighted paragraph, straining her mind to recall when she had made the notation.

"What happened to your books?" McGonagall demanded, circling her desk and halting before the first row of tables. Her horrified gaze moved from student to student, her eyes widening as the state of their textbooks became more apparent. With a look of distaste, she lifted Pansy's tattered tome and carefully opened it, crying out in surprise as several loose pages fell to the floor.

"We used them," Theodore Nott muttered dryly.

"A lot," added Blaise.

Setting the worn book gently upon the scarred wood of the long desk, McGonagall took several faltering steps back to the front of the room. She sank quietly onto the corner of the her desk, staring wordlessly at the young witches and wizards seated before her. A shaky hand was lifted to her brow, fingers pressing tightly against her temple. "I see," she said softly.

"Did you think we'd won by sheer luck?" Gregory grunted, exchanging a frown with Vincent. Shaking their heads in disgust, the pair turned their attention to the tattered textbooks before them.

"Of course not!" McGonagall said loudly, rising with a horrified expression upon her face.

"Oh, of course not," Draco mocked, widening his pale eyes. Giving a sharp shake of his head, the blond leaned back in his chair and settled his hands atop his gleaming locks. "You thought the Pride wasn't ready for this war. You, and your precious Order. Where were you when the Final Battle occurred? Were you safe and warm within your bed?"

"Mister Malfoy!" McGonagall said, aghast at the very thought.

"Actually, if I'm recalling correctly," Theodore purred, " she was in Ice's dungeon."

"You don't win a war by rushing blindly onto the battlefield," Pansy stated calmly. Watching the professor with an amused expression upon her face, the Slytherin witch whispered _accio_ and waved her wand. The scattered pages from her textbook zoomed into her waiting hand, the abused parchment fluttering lightly within her grasp. "But you should know that." Giving the older witch one last stare, she dropped her eyes and began to sort through the pages, carefully sliding them back into their place within the worn text.

"It takes knowledge to win a war," Blaise said, closing his textbook.

"And dedication," Theodore exclaimed. His textbook was closed sharply, the torn cover lying exposed.

"Courage," Gregory muttered.

"Cunning," Vincent said, elbowing his hulking companion for his Gryffindorish contribution.

"Cooperation!" Hannah Abbot called from the back of the room.

"Bravery!" Ernie Macmillan hollered.

"Planning!" Susan Bones snapped, lifting her chin defiantly as she glared at the Transfigurations Professor.

"Enough!" Minerva McGonagall cried, bringing her hand down on the top of her desk. The loud crack brought silence to the room, causing all the students to close their mouths and sink deeper into their chairs. Eyes shimmering, the Transfigurations Professor drew a deep breath and cleared her throat. "Please turn to page one-hundred-fifty."

"Love and friendship." Idly flipping the pages of his textbook, Draco lifted his gaze and peered at the gray-haired witch, an amused smirk riding his lips . "Oh, and it also takes a capable leader."

"Detention, Mister Malfoy." The Professor stated. She slid her eyes over the silent students, studying their grim looks and hardened faces. Drawing a deep breath, she turned to face the dusty black board behind her desk, closing her orbs tightly and fighting down tears. These were no longer the lighthearted and carefree pupils she'd taught for five long years. These were soldiers, tried and trained on the field of battle. And they fully expected to be treated as such. Straightening her back, she waved her wand, erasing the lesson she had carefully planned. "Page three-hundred-ninety-two. Anyone who doesn't wish to turn to the correct page will do so in detention tonight with Mister Malfoy."

A book was closed loudly in the back of the room, signaling a mass exodus. Rising quietly, the Slytherins and Hufflepuffs collected their school supplies and headed toward the portal. Not one of them glanced back, choosing instead to keep their fiery eyes locked on the individual exiting before them. It was a deliberate move. A warning to every teacher in Hogwarts that they would not be treated like children. They deserved respect, not a pat on the head and a lolly for their troubles.

Smirking triumphantly, Draco rose, slowly collecting his quill, inkpot, and textbook as he moved. "We'll be seeing you tonight, Professor McGonagall." The blond chirped, rearranging his stuff as he used his hip to push his chair in. He glided after the Pride, falling into line behind Susan and Millicent. When he reached the door, he halted and turned, staring back at the stunned Professor. "Is seven alright for you? Or maybe a little later? Say, eight on the nose?"

"Seven, if you will, Mister Malfoy." Minerva rasped, clenching her hands together over her abdomen. Her lips were compressed unhappily, her eyes wide as she stared after her fleeing students. She had known the reintegration of the sixth years was going to be difficult. But she hadn't believed it would be this hard. It was like trying to feed a Hungarian Horntail by hand. Sighing, she plopped down on the corner of her desk and peered at the empty desks before her.

Draco watched the Transfigurations Professor in bemusement, slightly proud of the defeated slump of her shoulders. Smiling, he swung around and stepped into the hall, nodding at Pansy to lead the group wherever she chose. It was a small victory, but it was also a warning of things to come. The Pride was to be reckoned with, not treated like a bunch of fumbling first years.

XxXxX

It was lunch at Hogwarts and already the rumours were flying. Shushed whispers filled the Great Hall, jumping from table to table as more and more students arrived to partake in the noon meal. Constantly the gazes of the gossiping witches and wizards leapt to the wide entrance of the chamber, searching for any sign of the rogue Lions. Murmurs about dissension among the Prides ranks had eyes widening eagerly, everyone within hearing range swivelling to face the vapid gossip monger. Soft hisses from the Gryffindor table indicated that a lover's spat between Malfoy and Potter had torn the Lion's Pride asunder. From the Ravenclaw table, a tale of jealousy and anger that had left the sixth years at each others throats. And thus, it was to everyone's disappointment, that the Lion's Pride appeared intact and at perfect peace with each other twenty minutes into the meal.

Prowling into the Hall like a pack of hunting wolves, they swept the massive chamber with wary eyes and shifted restlessly. They spoke softly amongst themselves, ignoring the loud calls and wildy waving hands. With military precision, they separated and glided to their House Tables, gingerly perching themselves on the wooden benches. As they had earlier, they arranged themselves back to back, creating a tightly knit group that couldn't be moved or separated.

"I see we all survived our morning classes," Hermione murmured, her words laced with sarcasm. She exchanged a look with Ron, rolling her eyes when the wizard merely grinned and lifted a cup of pumpkin juice in salute. Giving a shake of her head, she began to fill her plate.

Eyes flicking over the section of table the Gryffindor Pride had commandeered, Harry gave a bob of his head and rose. He stepped gracefully over the bench, patting Seamus on the shoulder as he shifted. His lazy movements drew the attention of nearly everyone in the Hall. When Harry was sure he had every pair of eyes on him, he prowled to the Slytherin Table and tapped Blaise on the shoulder, silently asking the other wizard to slide over. Without questioning him, the Slytherins shifted, creating a small space for him between Blaise and Draco. His bottom had barely brushed the dark wood when an outraged shriek broke the stunned silence.

"You can't sit here!" One of the fifth year Slytherins bristled. Mouths falling open in horror, the students and staff of Hogwarts stared at the crazed wizard, wondering exactly what he was thinking in making the wild command.

"Pardon you?" Was the purred response the angered howl garnered. The words spilled easily from Draco's lips, one pale hand falling to rest on Harry's knee. Applying a gentle squeeze to the dark-haired wizard's thigh, he stared at the younger Slytherin, one delicate eyebrow slowly hitching upward.

Inhaling deeply, the fifth year shot an anxious glance in the direction of the Head Table before slowly straightening his spine and narrowing his panicked eyes. "I said he can't sit here." The words were slightly rushed, jumbling together as Draco's other eyebrow arched in disbelief.

"How brave of you, to beard the Lion among his Pride," Draco silkily stated, lifting a slender hand and trailing it over Harry's shoulder. His eyes remained locked on the other Slytherin, his body remaining perfectly still as he awaited the fifth year's stuttered response.

"He's a Gryffindor!" The fifth year spat in disgust, face pinched as he watched Draco's fingers trail across Harry's cheek. His eyes were dragged away from the pair by the screech of wood on stone, the sound breaking the eerie silence that had fallen upon the Hall. Orbs flaring in surprise, he stared at the sixth year Hufflepuffs, stiffening as they pushed away from their table and began to fan out. With not a word spoken between them, they approached the other House Tables and bravely perched themselves among their Pride mates.

Smiling, Draco tipped his head and dipped his chin in agreement. "Yes, he is," he rumbled softly, winking at the Hufflepuff who'd slid in between Pansy and Millicent on the opposite side of the table. His right hand remained light on Harry's thigh, a silent warning to let things unfold as they would. Gray eyes gleamed with triumph as the fifth year closed his mouth and watched in horrified silence as the rest of the Pride began to rearrange themselves.

Pansy shook her head and stood, stepping over the bench and calmly walking toward the Gryffindor table. She greeted Hermione with a small smile, settling herself on the bench across from the bushy-haired witch and selecting a clean plate. "Hello, Dean," the Slytherin witch murmured, shooting the grinning wizard a look of warning as his eyes dipped toward her chest.

Clearing his throat, Dean lifted his eyes and smiled before rising from his place. He threw his arm around Ron's shoulders as the pair glided across the hall, whispering something inaudible as they went. Lightly laughing, the pair sat down at the Hufflepuff table, bobbing their heads in greeting to the pair of Ravenclaws who joined them.

Terry Boot took Pansy's place at the Slytherin Table, rolling his eyes as the younger Ravenclaws called his name worriedly. He wrapped his fingers around Pansy's abandoned cup and lifted it to his lips, taking a small sip before raising it above his head. "Proudly Pride," he announced. His words were repeated by the scattered members of the Lion's Pride, all of them lifting their glasses in salute to each other.

Into the silence that followed, Ron cleared his throat and calmly requested that the potatoes be passed.

* * *

A/n: Thank you to everyone who took the time to read and review chapter two. And an especially appreciative thank you to everyone who's stilling reading this story. 


	4. Letters From The Dead

DISCLAIMER: Harry Potter and all other characters and locations belong to J. K. Rowling.

**Chapter Four - Letters From the Dead**

* * *

Aside from the dull murmurs that rose from the Pride section of each House Table, the Great Hall was quiet. Forks scraped and glasses clunked, but no other noise was made by the nervous students. Even the Professors perched behind the Head Table remained silent, their wary gazes sweeping the massive chamber in search of insurgence. Today, at this particular meal, the students of Hogwarts may as well have been lambs dining amongst starving wolves. No one knew quite what to make of the sudden change in seating arrangements, nor was anyone brave enough to challenge the raven-haired Lion currently occupying a prime spot on the Slytherin bench.

Greatly resembling a satiated leopard sunning itself after a successful hunt, Harry Potter sat straddling the Snake's bench, his eyes closed and his chin resting on Draco Malfoy's shoulder. His arms were loosely draped around the blond's waist, his breathing slow and even. To those curiously watching the dark-haired wizard, it appeared as if he were fast asleep, perfectly comfortable in his awkward position. However, the witches and wizards seated nearest him heard the soft words he muttered, saw the telltale glide and flex of his fingers.

"Incoming," Terry Boot mumbled around a mouthful of scrambled eggs. The Ravenclaw didn't bother to lift his head, his complete attention remaining focused on the plate of food sitting before him. His eyes flicked upward as he reached for his glass of pumpkin juice, meeting the shining orbs of the wizard seated directly across the table.

Turning his head, Draco watched the approaching Professor, his lips thinning. The hand that had been wielding a butter knife lowered, slipping gracefully beneath the table to rest on Harry's left thigh. "It's McGonagall," he reported in a whisper, long fingers applying a gentle squeeze to the raven-haired Gryffindor's leg. Harry's arms tightened momentarily around him, the only sign that he had heard the hissed murmur. Giving a brief nod to Terry, the blond removed his hand and resumed eating, acutely aware of the slow tensing of the body pressed against his side.

A chorus of syrupy sweet greetings marked the Transfiguration Professor's arrival at the Slytherin Table. The overly loud hail drew the eyes of the Pride members seated at the other House Tables, bringing a sudden halt to their hushed conversations. Their gazes cautious, the Pride shifted uncomfortably, awaiting whatever was to come. As the tension became almost tangible, complete silence descended upon the Great Hall.

Seeming both disturbed and concerned at being addressed en masse by the Lion's Pride, Minerva McGonagall frowned and cleared her throat. "Harry," she said evenly, casting her gaze over the sixth years. Her brow furrowed as the dark-haired wizard snuggled closer to Draco, pressing his face into the side of the blond's neck and sighing softly. Closing her eyes, she drew a deep breath, and then exhaled. "Mister Potter."

Opening his eyes, Harry straightened and peered questioningly at the witch. Professor McGonagall, he responded politely, his breath lightly ruffling Draco's hair. Fingers unobtrusively kneading the blond's abdomen, he remained in his relatively relaxed position. Right eyebrow hitching as the grim-faced Transfigurations Professor glared ruefully down at him, he shifted, attempting to ease the tightening muscles in his calves. "What time is Dumbledore expecting me in his office?"

Surprise widening her eyes, the old witch stared down at her once prized pupil. "A quarter after one," she rasped. Blinking, she gave a shake of her head and spun around, stalking toward the quiet Head Table. She didn't glance back over her shoulder, although the urge to do so must have been unbearably strong.

Allowing the tension to flow from his limbs, Harry sighed and shut his eyes, his chin returning to its former position on Draco's shoulder. His massaging fingers stilled, the splayed digits pressing lightly against the blond wizard's side. Around him, the Pride released the collective breath they'd been holding and returned to their conversations with relieved mumbles. And slowly, almost warily, the rest of the student body followed their example.

With a soft snort, Draco gave his head an amused wag and laid his fork down. "Smart ass," he breathed, turning his face toward Harry's. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the dark-haired wizard's lips twitch upward into a smirk, the smug smile vanishing as quickly as it had appeared. Exchanging a look with Terry, he slid his hand under the table and patted the raven-haired wizard's knee softly.

Settling his hand over Draco's, Harry squeezed lightly before tangling his fingers with the blond's slender digits. "Did you really think this mornings rebellious little coup would go unnoticed?" He whispered, his lips barely moving as he spoke. His eyes slid open, a mere sliver of green visible beneath the dark lashes.

"Darling, that was no 'little rebellious coup'", Draco murmured, "That was a full-scale revolt." Harrys' derisive sniff made him smile. Pale eyes dancing with mirth, the blond cast his gaze over the Great Hall, dipping his chin politely at the nods of greeting he received from several watchful Pride members.

Harry rubbed his chin against the Slytherin's shoulder in a catlike gesture, his slitted eyes drifting completely closed. "Well, whatever it was, I'm sure I'm going to hear about it," he breathed. The corners of his mouth rose at the blond's light chuckle, his arms tightening in a playful squeeze.

"I'm sure you will," Draco agreed, shifting within the dark-haired wizard's arms as a flash of movement caught his eyes. The sight of Hermione Granger marching purposefully toward them had him sighing and attempting to straighten, his efforts thwarted by the wizard wrapped around him. Brows arching in question, he watched the Gryffindor witch elbow Terry over with an amused grin, pinching Harry's thigh gently to gain his attention. "How good of you to join us, Hermione," he purred softly.

Offering the blond a cheeky wink, the bushy-haired witch shoved aside the clutter of plates and silverware from before her and slapped a leather bound day planner atop the table. "I just couldn't keep myself away, Draco," Hermione said primly, "The conversation looked so delightfully entertaining." She shot a meaningful look at Harry's still form, arching an eyebrow as Terry grunted out a laugh.

"I heard that Hermione," Harry mumbled, sitting up with a soft moan. He rolled his shoulders and yawned before opening his eyes and glaring at the witch, one hand rising to scratch lazily at his chin. Thoughtlessly, his hand drifted downward, fingers smoothing absently over the scars ringing his throat.

With a brisk shake of her head, Hermione lifted her eyes and smiled, ignoring the warning glare Draco shot in her direction. "Lunch is over in ten minutes, Harry. I thought it best if we discuss this afternoons schedule before we run out of time." Not giving the dark-haired Gryffindor a chance to reply, the witch flipped the agenda open and pursed her lips. "The Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws have Defence Against the Dark Arts . . . and we have History of Magic with the Slytherins."

"And to think you wasted your lunch sleeping," Terry remarked, shooting Hermione a dirty look when the witch once again buried her elbow in his side. Rubbing his bruised ribs, the Ravenclaw rose and stepped over the bench, bending slowly at the waist to pick up his abandoned book bag. Tilting his head to say something, he froze, his eyes narrowing. "Down, Harry!" He roared, his voice ringing through the Hall.

Before Harry had a chance to react, he was knocked from the bench and buried beneath several protective Lions, his view hindered by the length of dark cloth covering his face. Alarmed cries and shouted orders filled the air, followed by the loud chorus of 'protego'. A powerful rush of magic washed over the group lying prone upon the floor, twisting their cloaks and dragging roughly at their hair. And then, there was silence.

"Damn it, Terry," Blaise snapped angrily, "Did you have to scare everybody?" His voice broke the lengthening silence and drew cowering students from their places beneath the long tables.

Frowning, Harry shoved at the individual lying directly atop him. "Get off," he finally ordered, the harsh command rivaling the cracking of a whip. In seconds, the bodies that had been piled upon him vanished, replaced by helpful hands. His eyes locked on Terry, the dark-haired wizard climbed to his feet, batting away the hands brushing at his rumpled clothing. "Explain, Boot."

With a flick of the wand held between his fingers, Terry indicated the Slytherin Table, his gaze never moving from his target. "There's only one type of wizard who'd dare to use that type of bird to deliver their mail," the Ravenclaw spat.

Brow furrowing, Harry followed the wizard's gaze and stiffened. His orbs narrowed at the sight of a sleek black raven perched on the lip of a juice jug, its beady eyes glistening as it swiveled its narrow head. Lips curling into a disgusted sneer, the black-haired wizard reached for his wand. "Get rid of it," he barked, directing the glowing tip of his wand at the watchful bird.

As if sensing his disdain, the bird uttered a raucous cry and flapped its wings, the sudden movement dragging gasps of fear from the mouths of the cowering students. Performing a neat little hop, the raven dropped to the scarred wood of the table and waddled toward Harry, tilting its head so one glistening orb remained locked on the wizard. It halted when it reached the edge of the table, its narrow beak parting around another rough croak. Then, under the wary eyes of the Lion's Pride, it extended a single leg to which a piece of red parchment had been tied.

Harry drew a sharp breath, his emerald orbs locked upon the letter. "Finch-Fletchley," he called loudly, the glowing tip of his wand never leaving the raven. His right eyebrow hitched at an amused snort from his left, the sound tipping his chin in that direction. "Would you prefer the pleasure, Theo?"

"I'd rather run naked through the Ministry of Magic at twelve o'clock in the afternoon," the Slytherin wizard muttered quietly.

A sardonic smile curving his lips, Harry nodded in agreement. "That's what I thought." His gaze returned to the black bird, the expression on his face turning grim. He shifted impatiently, the toe of one boot beginning a rapid tap as he glanced in the direction of the Hufflepuff Table. Opening his mouth to repeat the wizard's name, he halted, his mouth snapping closed. With a disgusted huff, he jammed his wand into his belt and strode forward, extended hands reaching for the Howler.

"Harry," Draco said in warning, prowling quickly after the dark-haired wizard. His eyes darted back and forth between the raven and the Gryffindor, the fingers wrapped around his wand tightening perceptibly. Jaw clenched angrily, he stilled slightly to the right of Harry, watching the black bird warily.

"When I get my hands on the Hufflepuff-" Harry hissed, fumbling with the piece of white silk holding the roll of parchment to the bird's leg. Swearing softly, he yanked on the delicate ribbon and smirked when it snapped, the Howler falling into his waiting hand.

Freed of its burden, the raven cawed harshly and opened its wings. With a brisk flap, it leapt into the air and flew from the Great Hall, leaving every pair of eyes in the large chamber firmly fastened on one silent Harry Potter.

"Don't open it here, Harry," Hermione ordered briskly, sweeping hurriedly around the Slytherin Table. Her words came to late, however, the Howler unfolding within Harry's grasp and rising slowly into the air before him.

_Hello Harry dearest,_ the Howler purred in a frighteningly familiar voice. A crazed giggle followed the greeting, the parchment fluttering wildly in front the open-mouthed wizard. _Do you miss me? I miss you . . . I especially miss hearing you scream. You've no idea how that sweet sound still haunts me. I've tried to forget you. Oh, how I've tried._ The Howler confessed mournfully, its corners drooping slightly. With a drawn out sigh, the high-pitched voice resumed its discourse. _Indeed, I've even tried to replace you. But no one else gets that gleam in their eyes. That wild, defiant glow that makes me cry out in delight. I'm sure you remember every moment as well as I do . . . After countless others, I've come to the sad realization that I have to have you begging before me again, no one else will do. I'm coming for you, Harry, no one and nothing shall stand in my way. We'll be together soon, I promise_. Drifting marginally closer to Harry, the Howler blew a kiss and gave its parting words. _Sinfully yours, Bella._

"Is there something you forgot to tell us, Harry?" Dean hollered across the Great Hall. His bellow concealed the Howler's final words, leaving the entire student body guessing as to whom the letter had been from.

Watching dispassionately as the Howler tore itself to shreds, Harry exhaled sharply before whirling around and storming from the Hall, the Pride scrambling in his wake. His shouted name earned nothing more then a brief hesitation; the slight hitch in his stride so small it was almost unnoticeable. Without pause, and with little thought, he stalked through the abandoned halls of Hogwarts, allowing his feet to carry him where they would. He raked shaking fingers through his hair, tugging ruthlessly on the dark locks as his heart pounded and his mind raced.

Bellatrix Lestrange was alive. Bellatrix Lestrange was alive and coming for him. Anger warred with vengeful glee; the urge to laugh joyously forcing him to bite his tongue and take a calming breath. If there was anything he regretted about the way the war had ended, it had been that he hadn't been able to kill the dark witch himself. He'd always assumed that she'd been destroyed in the Ballroom Battle, perhaps killed by a Sentinel seeking its revenge. His eyes drifted closed as he tipped his head back and laughed, the sound possessing an eerie quality that raised the hair on the back of his neck.

"Ah, Bella," he mused, emerald orbs popping open, "You were never the brightest star in the sky." A devilish smile curving his lips, he looked out over the empty quidditch pitch, marveling at the green lawns and brightly coloured banners flapping in the warm breeze. The ominous creak of wood turned his head. Hand drifting to the hilt of his wand, he spun slowly, paling at the sight that met his glowing eyes.

Gritting his teeth in an effort to contain the numerous curses building up upon his tongue, Draco inhaled slowly and then exhaled, his hands balling into fists. "You'll promise me right now, Harry, that you won't do anything stupid," he said stiffly. His eyes narrowed when the dark-haired wizard began to wag his head, fingers clenching until his knuckles whitened.

"I can't promise you that," Harry began, snapping his mouth shut with a clack of teeth when the other wizard lifted a single finger.

"After everything we've been through, you'd risk your life for the chance to kill someone who you already thought was dead?" Draco demanded in exasperation. He lifted his hands and curled his fingers into claws, for one moment appearing as if he was about to grab the Gryffindor by the neck and commence strangling him. Huffing out a breath, he straightened his fingers and took a small step forward. "Why?" It was the only question that came to mind that didn't directly insult the dark-haired wizard's intelligence.

"She killed Sirius," Harry bit out, "And who knows how many other people she's killed since then. Bellatrix Lestrange is a murderess, Draco. There's no reason she shouldn't be dead right now." He stopped his tirade there, a grimace twisting his features as he realized he sounded just as crazed as Bellatrix's letter had. Giving a guttural groan, he whirled and flopped down on the bench behind him, dropping his face into the palms. "And now I sound as mad she does."

With a soft sigh, Draco sank down next to Harry and slid his arm around the raven-haired wizard's waist. "In your mind she was dead and buried, Harry," the blond murmured soothingly, pulling the other wizard against his side. "Finding out she's still alive is a nasty surprise. Why, think of how poor Neville will feel when he learns that the witch who tortured his parents is actually alive."

Scrubbing his face with the heels of his hands, Harry loosed an explosive breath and braced his elbows on his knees. "She needs to be dealt with," he said, glancing at the blond. The understanding he found within Draco's shining orbs was enough to straighten his spine. His gaze returned to the Quidditch pitch, the laughing emeralds hardening until they glowed a dangerous shade of jade. "The sooner- the better."

Draco stared at Harry for a long minute, his mind working quickly. Eyelashes drifting downward to shield smirking silver orbs, he nodded slowly, noting the flash of triumph that passed over the dark-haired wizard's face. "I understand and agree completely," he breathed, "But you do nothing without first consulting me. Also, the entire Pride needs to be involved. I won't have you running off and doing anything stupid alone."

Harry chuckled wryly, tilting his chin so he could peer at the blond. "Agreed," he said, draping his arm over Draco's shoulders.

"Do we need to define stupid or are we quite clear as to what that covers?" Draco asked, turning his face into Harry's side and inhaling lightly. His eyes slit at the other wizard's soft snigger, the fingers of his left hand applying a sharp pinch to the skin just above the Gryffindor's hipbone.

Flinching away from the blond's pinching fingers, Harry gasped and replied, "We're clear." He was awarded a gentle caress for his quick response, delicate fingers soothing the spot that had been pinched.

Sliding out from beneath Harry's arm, Draco rose and shook out his robes. "Classes will be resuming within the next five minutes," he announced after a quick glance at the watch adorning his right wrist. His hands smoothed down the dark material of his robes, brushing away non-existent wrinkles as he shot a preoccupied glance at the other wizard.

"And?" Harry said, arching a brow as he stood.

Shaking his head, Draco whirled and glided away from the other wizard, heading in the direction of the stairs. "Should we choose continue this discussion, we'll both be late." Lips curving at Harry's disgusted curse, the blond floated down the wooden steps.

Only seconds behind him, the dark-haired male pounded inelegantly down the stairs, raising dust and dirt from the ancient wood. "Dumbledore's office is on the opposite side of the castle," Harry grit out. The blond's soft laugh drifted back to him, causing his brow to furrow unhappily. "I'm going to have to run, aren't I?" He asked rhetorically, breaking into a jog as soon as his feet hit the grass.

"Have fun," Draco called at Harry's retreating back, lifting a hand to give a farewell wave. He sighed as his eyes slid over the Gryffindor's back, a soft pout curving his lips as he realized exactly how concealing their Hogwarts uniforms really were. With a mournful toss of his head, he strode lazily in the direction of the school, not the least bit worried about being late for History of Magic.

XxXxX

Sliding gracefully, albeit winded, into one of the chairs resting in front of Dumbledore's desk, Harry rearranged the drape of his robes before baldly meeting the older wizard's impatient gaze. "Professor McGonagall said you wanted to see me, sir," he said, folding his hands neatly in his lap. He widened his eyes innocently as Dumbledore sighed heavily and closed the book he'd idly been scanning. Restraining a sigh of his own, Harry settled himself deeper into the chair he had commandeered and prepared to defend the Pride's actions.

"Ah, Harry," Dumbledore said, the expression on his face surprisingly somber. Leaning back in his chair, he steepled his fingers and eyed the younger wizard warily. For several seconds, the pair waged a silent staring contest, neither prepared to point the first finger. Finally, after finding himself unable to continue gazing into twin pools of unblinking emerald, Albus heaved another deep sigh and leaned forward, placing his steepled fingers atop the book he'd been perusing. "I understand your return has been, perhaps, slightly more vigorous than what you were expecting, but there really is no need for the dramatics that occurred earlier. And while I can't condone you for the actions of your classmates, I must stress that you refrain from encouraging any further disruptive behaviour."

"I was unaware that having a crazed witch threatening to kidnap me could be considered my fault," Harry said sweetly, finally allowing himself to blink. He lowered his gaze to his lap and absently noted his whitened knuckles, drawing a deep breath as he unclenched his fingers and tried to gain control of both his temper and his tongue.

"I was actually referring to the disruption of the sixth year classes, my boy," Dumbledore returned evenly.

Left eyebrow lifting, Harry gazed at the Headmaster in apparent disbelief. "If your Professors are going to treat us like juvenile delinquents who know nothing, sir, then we're only to happy to entertain them. I will not, however, allow any member of the Lion's Pride to be punished, in any way, for acting as they did." Realizing his tone was becoming extremely sharp and his words biting, he quieted, his lips pressed tightly together.

Dumbledore gave a knowing nod, his expression turning strangely sympathetic. "And I realize that, Harry, but the rules still apply. You and your friends made an agreement with the Ministry to return to school and attend classes. That entails listening to the Professors and performing any actions or activities they might request of you."

"When those actions and activities become reasonable, I'm certain the entire Pride will consent to perform them," Harry snapped. He drew a deep breath and pulled his fingers apart, placing them carefully on the arms of the chair. His eyes narrowed as he exhaled through his nose, his nostrils flaring. "Until that time, we'll continue to act as we have been." Again he inhaled deeply, holding the air in his lungs for a moment before exhaling in a slow, calming breath.

With a dissatisfied huff, the Headmaster bowed his head in unhappy acceptance. "I'll speak with Minerva and Severus on the matter. Surely there's a satisfactory solution that will appease all parties involved. At the disbelieving arch of Harry's eyebrows, he made a note to himself with a quill he unearthed on his desk, placing the parchment in a prominent position among the jumble of books and assorted knick-knacks covering the cluttered wooden surface. Clearing his throat, he laid the gold-feathered quill down and peered at the younger wizard, his expression hiding his thoughts.

"That's all?" Harry questioned hopefully, sliding forward in the chair in preparation to stand.

"There's actually one more thing I wanted to speak with you about, my boy," Albus said quickly, lifting a hand to halt Harrys departure.

Harry was unable to contain his disgusted snort. "And that would be?" He growled imperiously, folding his arms across his chest.

"Why, the return of Bellatrix Lestrange, of course," Dumbledore replied.

In a rustle of robes, Harry rose smoothly. "That matter is really no concern of yours," he said politely, dipping his head in farewell. Giving the older wizard a final tight-lipped smile, he spun around and strode toward the winding staircase, ignoring the protesting mumbles that rose in his wake. "Good day, professor." His dismissal was firm and unapologetic, quieting Dumbledore as he prowled down the stairs. When he reached the bottom, he tipped his head back and massaged his aching temples, wondering how he was going to survive History of Magic and Snape's excuse for detention.

XxXxX

"Each of you is to place your wand within this jar," Snape purred, directing their attention to the empty glass container sitting forlornly before him. His lips curved slowly into a feral smile as the Ravenclaws and Gryffindors stared at him in stupefied silence. Dark orbs glittering with poorly veiled malice, he lifted the lid from the container and glared at Harry, silently daring him to refuse the order.

Brows rising, Harry shifted his gaze from Snape to the jar. It was a fairly reasonable demand. Fairly. The Potions Master obviously believed that taking their wands would prevent them from using magic; thus, making whatever task he had in mind all the more grueling. Licking his lips, Harry returned his gaze to Snape and allowed a devilish smirk to creep across his face. He rose with the squeal of wood on stone and walked down the center aisle, halting directly in front of the hook-nosed Professor. "Is that all, sir?" In the wake of his words, his wand clattered into the jar, the panther dangling from the handle clanking loudly against the thick glass.

"Yes, Potter, thats all." Sneered Snape, his eyes narrowing angrily.

Smiling innocently, Harry gave a delicate shrug of his shoulders before swinging around and strolling back to his seat. He slid gracefully into the chair between Ron and Hermione and folded his arms atop the desk, his eyes sparkling with amusement. His gaze remained on the Potions Professor as the rest of the sixth years pushed out of their seats and marched determinedly to the front of the room, depositing their wands carefully within the jar.

"I hope you know what you're doing," Hermione hissed as she brushed by him, her wand held loosely in her hand.

Harry merely grinned, fluttering a hand lazily in the direction of Snape and his jar of wands. As far as he was concerned, being wandless while deep within the bowels of Hogwarts was the least dangerous thing he'd done all day. Besides, pissing Snape off, which was fast become his favorite hobby, was really quite entertaining.

Placing the lid on the container, Snape scooped it up and tucked it under his arm, casting a disdainful glance at the group as he dragged his wand from the pocket of his robes. "Because of your thoughtless actions this morning I'm forced to attend a staff meeting with the Headmaster." Baleful gaze sweeping the room, the Potions Professor waved his wand at the storage cupboard that held every potion ingredient known to the wizarding world. "While it was suggested I postpone your . . . punishment, I felt that all of you could benefit from the responsibility of being left unattended for a short period of time. Of course, should you fail to complete the simple tasks listed upon the board in the allotted time, you'll be returning tomorrow night. I'll be back in two hours." With one final bitter glare, he stalked from the classroom, their wands lolling in the jar beneath his arm.

Harry winced as the door slammed closed on Snape's heels, the lock falling ominously into place. Biting his bottom lip, he turned his gaze to the blackboard at the front of the chamber, his brow wrinkling as bold words slashed themselves across the dark slat. His eyebrows vanished under his shaggy bangs when the frantic scribbling finally stopped. "Wash all dirty cauldrons and thoroughly clean and organize the potion ingredients cupboard," he read out loud. Surely this was some type of trap, he thought, eyes drifting from the board to the massive walk-in closet Snape called a cupboard.

"That's it? No possibly life-endangering trip into the Forbidden Forest to collect fresh potion ingredients?" Terry asked, peering hopefully at the blackboard as if expecting more tasks to appear. When anything further failed to appear, he slumped in his seat. Frowning, he reached up and carded his fingers through his hair, exchanging a disgusted look with Ron. "I find myself strangely disappointed."

"As am I," Harry grumbled, rising and rolling up his sleeves. Planting his hands on his hips, he approached the stack of filthy cauldrons with purpose. Not bothering to glance at the wide-eyed mass behind him, he waved vaguely in the direction of the storage cupboard. "I'll handle this mess. Terry, delegate." He'd rather do dishes then spend two hours rearranging something that would only be reorganized as soon as they left.

With the sound of Terry's voice ricocheting around the chamber, he flipped on the tap above the large metal washtub. Mindlessly, he added soap to the rising water, watching as fluffy bubbles swarmed across the surface. He turned with a soft sigh, leaning back against the counter and crossing his arms over chest. Under his thoughtful gaze, the group performed the tasks theyd been assigned, pausing only to converse with the individuals closest to them.

History of Magic had been spent slumped in a chair next to Draco; his arms crossed and his legs sprawled out before him. Many of the Gryffindors had chosen to follow his shining example but the Slytherins had been strangely busy. That wasn't unusual, of course. The Slytherins were excellent at multitasking, which was exactly what they'd been doing. In an effort to further unnerve McGonagall, the Slytherins and Hufflepuffs had completed the assignment found at the end of the chapter she'd told them to read. Harry was certain the Transfigurations Professor would be more than a _little_ unnerved by the students seemingly one-eighty change in attitude.

Brow furrowing, he swung back around and turned the water off, his hands sliding slowly into the steaming liquid. He'd informed the Pride that there was to be a meeting in the Room of Requirement tomorrow morning. A meeting in which the Howler he'd received would be discussed thoroughly. Just the thought of how that little get together would go had his head pounding. He turned at a burst of wild laughter, a grin curving his lips as he watched Dean slap Terry roughly on the shoulder. But that was tomorrow . . . and tomorrow was another day.

XxXxX

Thank-you to everyone who took the time to read and review. The end to this chapter was a little abrupt and for that I apologize, unfortunately I was starting to grow bored with it and decided to wrap it up before I completely lost my mind and nerve.


	5. Wanted: Bellatrix Lestrange

DISCLAIMER: Harry Potter and all other characters and locations belong to J. K. Rowling.

**Chapter Five - Wanted: Bellatrix Lestrange (Preferably Dead)**

* * *

Harry sat before the fire in the Gryffindor Common Room, his eyes locked on the flames crackling in the hearth. The soft whisper of boots on stone turned his head, his fingers unconsciously curling around the handle of his wand. He exhaled slowly at the sight of Neville, forcing his fingers to relax and a smile to curve his lips as the other wizard called out a greeting. Flicking his eyes over Neville's shoulder, he searched the shadowed stairwell for signs of life, nearly sighing in relief when he found the other Gryffindor alone on the stairs.

"Good morning," he replied softly, rising at Neville's approach. Without giving the taller wizard a chance to respond, Harry waved him toward the scarlet sofa, clasping his hands behind his back and beginning to pace before the fire. Lips pursed, he stared at the floor, seemingly lost in thought. He knew what he had to do, there was really no point in putting it off any longer. Inhaling deeply, he halted and turned to face Neville, staring into the questioning eyes of one of his closest friends.

"What's wrong?" Neville asked, "This is about that Howler, isn't it?"

Harry nodded slowly, his expression growing stoic as resignation swept over him. "Yes, it is." He drew a deep breath as he stared at the other wizard, his fingers whitening where they were locked together behind his back. "Neville . . . that Howler was sent by Bellatrix Lestrange."

For a single second, complete silence hung over the Common Room, a silence that was fractured by Neville's outraged shout. "No! She's dead, Harry! They killed her! You were there! They killed them all-." His angered words trailed off when the dark-haired male began to shake his head. "She has to be dead," he said in a breathless whisper, "I need her to be dead." Dazed eyes stared up at Harry, desperately pleading for the truth.

Harry wasn't given a chance to reply. The heavy thud of boots exploded on the stairs above, the sound rumbling like distant thunder. Heaving a soft sigh, Harry tipped his chin toward the ceiling and closed his eyes. Alarmed shouts and worried calls filled the room as the Pride spilled down the stairwell and into the chamber, the pajama-clad group quickly spreading out and searching for the cause of the disturbance. Wands were slowly lowered when a harried sweep of the room revealed nothing amiss, puzzled faces turning to Harry in silent question.

"I was having a private conversation with Neville," Harry explained patiently, "And gave him some news which he wasn't expecting." The broad statement caused brows to furrow in thought, everyone attempting to figure out what could possibly have discomfited Neville to the point of yelling.

Exchanging a glance with Hermione, Ron tipped his head, lips pursing. "Is this about that Howler?" He asked finally, watching Harry's face closely.

The dark-haired wizard didn't so much as flinch at the question, his eyes never leaving Neville's bowed head. "Yes," he murmured finally, lifting his chin and eyeing the group tiredly. Raising a hand, he scrubbed indelicately at his face, the gesture revealing his uneasiness with the current conversation. "However, the matter I was discussing with Neville was of a personal nature. I'll tell you all everything you need to know at the meeting later this morning. For now, I ask that you excuse Neville and I, we have some business to settle."

Blinking at the frank dismissal, the group stared at Harry, not quite comprehending that he was actually ordering them from the room - albeit in a very polite manner. It took an arched brow and a waved hand to turn the Pride toward the staircase, and even then their strides were short and hesitant. Slowly they began to filter back up the stairs, mumbling quietly amongst each other.

Halting with one hand on the wall of the stairwell, Dean glanced back at the silent pair, his expression grim. "Harry," he said quietly, the sound of his voice turning the other male's gaze in his direction. "Are you okay?"

Harry met Dean's worried eyes and forced a small smile to his lips. "I've been better," he answered truthfully, giving a slight nod of his head to reinforce the words. "But this is something I have to do."

Dean frowned slightly but dipped his chin in acknowledgment. "I'll see you later, then." Brow still furrowed, he turned and followed the retreating Pride up the stairs to their dorm rooms.

Nearly sighing in relief at having emptied the Common Room with minimal argument, Harry returned his attention to Neville. Carding his fingers through his hair, he turned and flopped down on the couch next to the other wizard, staring at the fire snapping merrily in the hearth. "I'm so sorry, Neville. I wanted her to be dead, too. In fact, I was positive she was. But that Howler . . ."

"Are you certain, Harry? I mean, absolutely positive that that Howler was from Bellatrix and not some other witch?" Neville asked in a quiet but hopeful voice. The little remaining hope he felt was crushed when Harry shook his head slowly.

"I'll never forget her voice. It's ingrained in my memories." Rapt gaze seemingly intent on the flames dancing in the fireplace, Harry slowly unwrapped his fingers from the hilt of his wand, having no memory of how they'd gotten to be there in the first place. "I hear it every night in my nightmares," he said in a hushed whisper.

Eyes widening, Neville swivelled to face the dark-haired male. "Harry," he murmured, reaching out and placing a comforting hand on the other wizard's shoulder.

Shrugging out from under the hand, Harry locked blazing emerald orbs on his fellow Gryffindor. "I need you to promise me that you won't do anything rash, Neville. That you'll wait for the Pride to decide how she should be dealt with before rushing off and doing something stupid."

Staring into the slightly crazed eyes of Harry Potter, Neville gave a bob of his head in agreement before rising and walking stiffly toward the staircase that led up to the dorms. He halted with his boot on the first stair, glancing back at the dark-haired male with narrowed eyes. "Harry," he called softly, waiting for Pride leader to look at him before continuing. "I want you to promise me you won't do anything stupid, either." Relief swept through him at the slow curve of the other male's lips, the small smile easing his worries and telling him that the Harry he'd long ago befriended was still in there.

"I already promised Draco," Harry said simply, knowing that no further explanation was needed.

He watched as Neville nodded and resumed his climb up the stairs, disappearing into the shadows above. As soon as he was alone, the smile fell from his face, leaving his features cold and hard. Bellatrix Lestrange was as good as dead; it was really only a matter of time. And if there was one thing Harry knew about the dark witch, it was that she was impetuous and without patience. She'd show up sooner than later - and he'd be waiting. A new smile twisted his lips and curved his fingers lovingly around his wand, he couldn't wait.

**XxXxX**

Harry stared at the expectant faces of the Lions Pride, suddenly feeling extremely nervous even though he'd done this type of thing numerous times before. His gaze swept slowly around the chamber, landing finally on Draco who stood against the east wall of the Room of Requirement. The blond could have sat if he wanted to; the Room had provided dozens of comfortable looking chairs and even several large overstuffed sofas done in various shades of gray for the Pride to rest upon.

"Everyone's here, Harry," Ron called, ushering a small trio of stragglers into the room. The redhead moved to take his seat upon one of the couches, squeezing in between Terry and Justin. After a bit of shuffling and squirming, the room fell perfectly silent, all eyes on the raven-haired wizard at the front of the chamber.

Drawing a deep breath, Harry straightened his shoulders and lifted his chin. "Any of you who may have been absent at breakfast yesterday should already be aware of the fact that I received a Howler. I'd read it you if I still had it, but it destroyed itself quite efficiently after delivering its message." Several anxious snickers filled the room, the quiet sounds earning the individuals who made them sideways glances from the people seated around them. "That Howler was sent to me by Death Eater Bellatrix Lestrange."

The announcement caused a rush of whispers, voices rising as everyone began to exclaim over the news. Witches and wizards turned in their chairs, speaking excitedly with those seated around them. A sharp whistle brought silence to the room, the assembled Pride glancing at Terry in surprise before turning their attention back to the front of the room.

"I, like many of you, thought Lestrange was dead. In fact, up until this point, there actually hadn't been any evidence to suggest otherwise. I'm taking the aforementioned Howler as proof that Bellatrix is still alive and still within the country." Harry said in a quiet voice, eyes roving over the group.

"How can you be sure it's really her?" Mandy Brocklehurst asked, a small frown marring her features. She exchanged a small look with Susan and Hannah, her fingers knotting in her lap.

"Her voice," Harry said. The Pride stared at him in silence, some of them wearing expressions of disbelief. Inhaling, he began to pace back and forth before the group, trying to determine exactly how much he should tell them. With a weary sigh, he lifted a hand and rubbed at the scar around his neck. "When I was in Azkaban, Bellatrix would visit me quite often. She liked to talk," he confided to the room.

Theodore lifted a hand politely, waiting for Harry to acknowledge him. He frowned when the Lion stared unseeing at him, his green eyes growing distant and unfocused. A murmur slid through the chamber, the Pride growing uneasy at the lengthening silence, some individuals glancing at Draco in search of answers. Having grown impatient with the wait, Theo spoke. "Why wasn't she at the Ball? As one of Voldemort's top Death Eaters, she should have been in attendance."

"There was an incident that occurred several days before the Ball which may have earned Bellatrix Voldemort's displeasure." Draco's voice rang through the room, cool and precise as always. He prowled from his spot against the wall, gliding toward Harry's still form. "As such, it was unlikely she would have been allowed to attend." Halting beside the raven-haired wizard, Draco settled a gentle hand against the nape of his neck, making a soft shushing noise when Harry jumped slightly at the touch.

"What type of incident?" Justin asked, oblivious to the tension rising in the room.

"If that incident was of any relevance to this conversation, Finch-Fletchley, you'd already know about it," Draco purred in warning. Glaring at the other wizard, Draco lowered his mouth to Harry's ear. "Are you all right?" He breathed, sliding his hand down the raven-haired male's back.

Harry drew a series of deep breaths before he nodded, slowly coming back to the present. It had been so long since he'd allowed himself to think about Azkaban, since he'd purposely immersed himself in the memories. "Fine," he said, pulling gently away from Draco and running a shaking hand through his hair. Clearing his throat, he gazed at the worried faces peering up at him. "Beatings and crucio's were a common occurrence in Azkaban," Harry said in a quiet voice, "Things got out of hand during one of Lestrange's visits. I'm quite certain Voldemort was informed of the incident."

"How can you be certain?" Michael wondered curiously. The question earned the wizard several angered glares, and a hard elbow to his side by Seamus who was seated next to him.

"Because everything that involved me was reported back to him. Now, back to the matter at hand. As the Howler clearly stated, Lestrange is looking for me. I'm sure she'll turn up here eventually, however, I'm not willing to wait that long. I want Bellatrix Lestrange behind bars. If that means skirting around some of the rules set to us by the Wizengamot, so be it. I don't want any of you doing anything without my direct orders, though."

"We're actively going to be hunting Lestrange?" Dean asked, excitement clear in his voice. The prospect of resuming their former duties caused a rush of eager whispers to race around the room.

Giving a small smile, Harry nodded. "Very discreetly, of course," he added. For a moment he stared at the assembled Pride, going through an internal list of things to do before giving a slight bob of his head. "That's everything, I believe. When a plan of action has been decided upon, you'll all be informed. You can all head down to breakfast now." It took a minute for the Lions Pride to leave the Room of Requirement. They broke into smaller groups as they prowled from the large chamber, whispering furiously as they headed off in various directions, leaving Harry standing silently at the front of the room.

**XxXxX**

It was a quiet group of Pride members that wandered slowly into the Great Hall at the tail end of breakfast. They settled themselves in a tight group at the bottom of the Hufflepuff Table, assuming that the handful of remaining Badgers taking breakfast would be to polite to bother them. Once seated, they simply stared at the teeming platters of steaming food, no one having any interest in eating after the meeting they'd just sat through. It was a plaintive grumble from Ron's stomach that spurred the group into action, all of them reaching for plates and cups.

"There'll be no trial for Bellatrix Lestrange," Terry muttered finally, breaking the silence. His expression was dark, and shared by nearly everyone in the little group.

Nodding in agreement with Terry's statement, Ron heaped scrambled eggs onto his plate and then proceeded to bury them in a deluge of ketchup. "I'll kill her if I find her first," the redhead mumbled, nudging Goyle and gesturing at the plate of sausage sitting just beyond his reach.

"But then you'll be no better than her." A soft voice dreamily inserted into the conversation. Gazing into the pitcher of orange juice before her with wide blue eyes, Luna ignored the wave of grumbles her words caused. "And you know that's not what Harry would want," she added in a whisper.

"Perhaps not," Crabbe grunted, snagging a piece of toast off Dean's plate, "But accidents can happen. If she happens to choke on a piece of apple or fall down some stairs, no one would be the wiser."

"Whatever happened to a good old ' Avada Kedavra'?" Blaise wondered out loud, pouring himself a cup of tea. "I mean, it's quick and clean. Two simple words and you're done."

"I can't believe you're discussing murdering Bellatrix Lestrange in the middle of the Great Hall," Ginny hissed at them, disapproval clear in the tone of her voice. She glowered at the seven wizards, giving a small shake of her head when her brother tried to defend the group around a mouthful of egg and bacon. "She should stand before the Wizengamot and be sentenced to Azkaban where she can spend the rest of her life locked in a very small cell with only a Dementor for company."

"That's to good for her," Seamus mumbled, earning himself a glare from Ginny. Shrugging his shoulders, the wizard folded his arms over his chest, standing firmly beside his opinion.

"Besides, if anyone should get to kill her, it should be Neville," Ginny spat. With a sharp bob of her head, she swung around and marched toward the Gryffindor Table, taking a seat between Hermione and Lavender.

Cramming a sausage into his mouth, Goyle nodded his head and stared ruminatively at his empty plate. "Witch has a point," he said finally, earning himself stares from the closest Pride members.

Shaking his head, Terry rose gracefully, brushing his robes neatly into place. "Class starts soon," he said, the words both a warning and an explanation for his early departure. The news dragged muffled curses from several of the wizards, all of them standing and mumbling unhappily to each other as they broke into smaller groups and headed back to their Houses to collect their books.

That small forced parting was like a thorn in the Pride's paw, the inability to stay together even at the most innocuous of times. But they did it, because it had been in the rules given to them by the Wizengamot. Fortunately, their time at Hogwarts would eventually end, and they'd be able to travel as the Lion's Pride once again.

**XxXxX**

"Tell me the truth, Harry, are you all right?" Draco asked quietly, prowling around from behind the dark-haired wizard and halting before him. He extended a slender hand and cupped one tan cheek, staring deeply into tired jade spheres. A smile curved his lips, his expression softening when the other wizard lifted a hand and settled it atop his own.

Holding Draco's hand against his cheek, Harry met his worried silver orbs, a smile flirting with the corners of his lips. "Yes," he murmured, amusement lightening the simple reply. Sliding his hand down the blond's arm, he tugged the other wizard closer, curving his arms around his waist and sighing softly.

Around them, the room began to shift. The ceiling lowered and the lighting dimmed, the atmosphere becoming more intimate. With the groan of brick and a shower of dust, a fireplace emerged from the wall behind them, flames leaping into existence with a sharp crackle. All of the chairs vanished, leaving only a single sofa sitting directly before the fire.

Curling an arm around Harry's waist, Draco guided him toward the loveseat, gently pushing him down upon the dark fabric. He settled himself on the cushion next to the other wizard, draping an arm over his shoulders and tugging him closer. "You're absolutely positive you're okay?" He asked again, brushing several locks of dark hair off Harry's forehead.

"Yes, Draco," Harry said with a soft laugh. He rested his head against the blond's chest, fingers capturing the blond's free hand and bringing it to his lips. "It's just been a long time since I've thought about that place. And even longer since I've spoken about it."

Draco nodded slowly, running a soothing hand up and down Harry's arm. "I know." He watched the flames dancing in the hearth, the soft snaps and pops caused by the burning wood echoing in the quiet room. With a drawn out sigh, he rested his chin on the top of Harry's head, feeling the dark-haired wizard's soft breaths slip over his knuckles where they rested against his mouth. "I spoke with Severus last night while you were in detention. He said there was no way he was allowing you off the premises unless you promised not to come back."

Harry chuckled lightly. "Did you tell him why we needed to leave the grounds?"

"Yes, and he said he didn't care and didn't want to hear about it." Draco responded, fingers twining with Harry's. "He did, however, say that we could use his fireplace later to speak with Father."

"My, how kind of him," Harry replied sarcastically. With a soft groan, he pushed away from the blond and rose, lifting his arms above his head in a lazy stretch that produced several muted pops. Turning, he offered the blond a hand, pulling him to his feet and offering him a tight smile. "Enough lazing about for us, yeah? I've got some things I need to look into and you should go down and have breakfast with the Pride."

Arching a brow, Draco looked at the dark-haired wizard. "You need to eat, Harry," he said, his tone brooking no argument.

"I will, just not at this precise moment," Harry said, mentally beginning to formulate a list of things he needed to do. He grinned at the warning look the blond gave him, leaning forward and pressing a light kiss against his lips. "I'll catch up with you later. We'll have lunch." Giving Draco another kiss, this one gentle and lingering, Harry turned and left the chamber, leaving the blond staring after him with pursed lips and narrowed eyes.

**XxXxX**

The library was strangely quiet, but given the current hour, perhaps that wasn't such a strange thing, Hermione thought. She glanced around at the unoccupied tables, the pale green feather of her quill idly sweeping back and forth over the blank piece of parchment before her. Brow delicately furrowing, she dropped her gaze to the untouched parchment, quill slowing its graceful dance. She didn't feel like doing her Ancient Runes assignment right now. In fact, given everything she'd learned this morning, she didn't feel like doing anything of an educational nature. Rather, for once, she wanted to live. Wanted to celebrate her life by doing something . . . stimulating. She let out a startled gasp when the chair beside her was drawn out suddenly, her eyes leaping up to meet the laughing orbs of Pansy.

"You okay, Hermione?" The witch asked, one perfectly plucked brow lifting. She settled herself gracefully upon the hard wooden chair, casting a careful look around the room before refocusing on the other Lioness.

Hermione nodded, casting her own gaze about the room before meeting Pansy's amused stare. "Just thinking," she said, giving a single shoulder shrug to dismiss her earlier surprise. "About life."

Pansy nodded slowly, her expression one of complete understanding. "I never really thought about what the conditions were like in . . . there. I mean, I heard stories and knew what Voldemort was capable of, but I just didn't care - because I could pretend like it wasn't real. First as a Death Eater, and then as a member of the Lions Pride" Her fingers traced a random pattern on the table, her eyes following the slender digits. "And the worst part, Hermione, the worst part was that I felt such relief knowing that I was safe at Ice once Blaise and I were rescued. That I wouldn't actively have to put myself in a situation where I might be captured or killed."

Hermione stared at Pansy in shock; the blonde usually wasn't so open with her thoughts and feelings. She dropped her quill and reached out for Pansy's hand, stilling the tracing digits with a light touch. "Given everything that happened to you in the Dark Lord's service, a little relief isn't cause for guilt. You survived, Pansy, and that's nothing to be ashamed of. I suppose none of us really thought about what may have happened at Azkaban. We were all just happy to have Harry back."

"I know that, but still-." Pansy fell silent, her eyes on Hermione's untouched assignment. "Do you think that's all of it? That Harry told us everything?"

Slowly, Hermione shook her head, eyes dropping to the tabletop. "I think Harry told us what he was capable of telling us, and nothing more. I imagine there are things he'll never speak about with anybody, maybe not even Draco." The pair sat quietly for a moment, thinking their own private thoughts. It was Hermione who broke the silence, rising to her feet and beginning to collect her books and papers. "Let's go for a walk, Pansy. It's such a nice day out, it would be a terrible waste if we were to spend it sitting here in the library."

Pansy smiled, stoppering the small pot of unused ink and dropping it into Hermione's bag. "Perhaps we should see if anyone else would like to join us?" She suggested, standing and pushing her chair back in. She shared a small approving grin with the other witch, linking their arms together and tugging her toward the door.

Laughing softly, Hermione nodded her head in agreement. "A wonderful idea, Pans'," she said on a chuckle, allowing the blonde to drag her from the now empty library.

**XxXxX**

Draco politely asked the occupant of the portrait guarding the entrance to Professor's Snape's quarters to fetch the Potions Master, ignoring the disgusted look the witch shot Harry before disappearing behind her frame. Shifting his feet impatiently, the blond glanced at his companion, noting the slightly devilish glint in his emerald orbs. "Please behave yourself," he murmured, straightening the cuff of his white shirt. He turned back to face the painting when it swung open with a squeak, smiling into the sneering face of Severus Snape.

"Good evening, Professor Snape," he said, trying to pretend the older wizard wasn't glaring over his shoulder at Harry.

Stepping back into his chambers, Snape waved the pair into his shadowy living room, closing the portrait loudly behind the dark-haired wizard. "Draco, good to see you again," Severus finally said, shifting his gaze to the young blond. He ushered the pair around a well-worn couch toward the fireplace, slapping Harry's hand away from a stack of dust-covered books. "I informed the Headmaster you and Potter would be making a call to the Manor. He said I was to be present during the call, however, since Lucius and I are currently avoiding each other, I'll leave you two alone."

"You and Father are fighting?" Draco asked, curling his fingers in the back of Harry's robes and dragging him to a halt. He cast his eyes around the room, arching a brow at the dust covering the shelves and garbage bin overflowing with crumpled balls of parchment.

Grabbing the tome he'd left open on the table, Severus stalked toward the portal, halting with his hand on the back of the portrait. "No, we're simply not speaking to each other at the moment. Now, I'm going to my office and I'll be back in twenty minutes. When I get back here, the pair of you had better be gone." Pushing the portrait open, Snape took a short step into the corridor, freezing on the other side of the portal. "You," he spat at Harry, "Don't touch anything." With that, he released the portrait, allowing it to slam closed behind him.

Harry rolled his eyes and dropped to his haunches before the fire. "I'm opening all of his drawers before I leave, just so he thinks I fondled his underwear." He watched Draco gracefully settle beside him, smiling innocently when the blond shot him a look of warning. His smile faded as the other wizard made the call, watching as the orange flames took on a green hue right before his eyes. The next thing he knew, he was peering into a spacious study occupied by a large desk and a very surprised house elf.

Blinking, the elf scurried toward the fireplace, eyes widening at the sight of Draco and Harry in the rolling green flames. "Master Malfoy," the elf squeaked, its voice rising shrilly with its excitement.

"Hi," Draco said, grimacing as the elf clapped its hands eagerly. "I need to speak with my Father if he's in . . ."

"Of course, Master Malfoy," the elf said, disappearing suddenly.

Draco heaved a sigh of relief at having dispatched the house elf, playfully swatting at Harry who was laughing silently over the blond's awkward dealings with the elf. The amused grin he wore faded when his father appeared before the fireplace, the elegant blond gracefully seating himself upon a small stool provided by a shabbily dressed elf. "Good evening, Draco." He said before shifting his gaze to Harry, a slender brow lifting in silent question.

"Father," Draco murmured in greeting.

"Mister Malfoy," Harry replied politely. "We were actually wondering if you could help us with something. You see, I received a Howler yesterday from Bellatrix and was wondering if you'd seen her, or heard from her . . ."

Lucius Malfoy frowned at the question before giving a slow shake of his head. "I've neither seen nor heard from Bella. I'd assumed she was dead." The blond folded his hands neatly in his lap, eyes sliding back and forth between the pair. "Receiving a Howler from Bellatrix isn't a good thing. The pair of you need to be very careful."

"Thank-you, Mister Malfoy," Harry murmured, nodding his head before rising and backing away from the fireplace. He stared blankly at a bookshelf crammed full of ancient texts, giving Draco a moment alone with his father while contemplating on what the next step in the search for Bellatrix Lestrange would be. Draco appeared in his peripheral vision, the blond gazing at him with cautious eyes.

"Are you done?" Draco asked, flipping a hand in the direction of the portrait. He frowned at Harry's curt nod, trailing the dark-haired wizard from Severus's chambers. They only walked a short distance down the corridor before stopping in front of the section of wall that concealed Slytherin House.

Turning, Harry stepped into Draco's arms, pressing his nose against the side of the blond's neck. His arms tightened around the blond's waist, dragging him as close as he possibly could, as if attempting to absorb the other wizard into his very being. "Good night," he whispered, tipping his chin up and pressing his lips against Draco's.

Relaxing into the embrace, Draco flicked his tongue against Harry's, sighing softly when the dark-haired wizard opened his mouth. They withdrew seconds later, their lips clinging as they stared into each other's eyes. "I hate this," Draco whispered quietly, resting his forehead against Harry's.

Sliding his arms free, Harry stepped away from the blond. "It's only for a little while," he murmured, "We'll be going home soon, and then we won't have to say goodbye." With a small flutter of his hand, he turned and walked down the hallway, determined to make it back to the Gryffindor Common Room before curfew went into effect.

**XxXxX**

a/n: Sorry, and thank-you to everyone who waited patiently ( and those who waited not so impatiently) for this story to continue.


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